#Peter Ludes

[dipnotski]

Kolektif – Medya, İdeoloji ve Hegemonya (2025)

Savaş Çoban’ın editörlüğünü yaptığı ‘Medya, İdeoloji ve Hegemonya’ (‘Media, Ideology and Hegemony’) adlı kitap, medyanın ideolojik rolünü ve toplumsal hegemonya üzerindeki etkisini farklı perspektiflerden inceleyen makalelerden oluşuyor. Kitap, medyanın sadece haber ve bilgi aktaran bir araç olmadığını, aynı zamanda ideolojilerin üretildiği, yeniden üretildiği ve yaygınlaştırıldığı bir alan…

[flowerpottlady]

Hazy

Day 8 of July’s @jilymicrofics!

***

Summer was ending, and with it James’s sanity. It had been roughly sixteen weeks - one hundred and eleven days to be precise - since his family entered into hiding. The first few weeks, before his son was born, James had taken to throwing himself into home renovations.

Hanging shelves, painting the nursery; building a crib, a table, a dressing table for Lily. He soon ran out of projects, and threw himself into supporting Lily, learning to be a parent to Harry. But now, the boredom has sunk in.

James had been watching entirely too much of the telly, his eyes hurt from the endless reading, and his hands were beginning to callous from all the chopping and dicing he had been doing in the kitchen - trying his hand at cooking.

With boredom, fear began to envelop him. He hated this, rattling around the house. He was once a soldier, fighting to make the world a better place. And now he couldn’t so much as step off his property without panic overwhelming him, the lingering knowledge that the death eaters, Voldemort, were hunting his son.

James set down the book he had been attempting to read for the past day now, a Muggle detective book that Lily had gifted to him for Christmas the previous year. Normally the Muggle words would have thrilled him, the story keeping his attention until the early hours of the morning. But he was itching, too nervous to sit still and read a book.

He left the living room, slowly treading up the stairs - admiring the few pictures hung carefully on the wall. Lily and him, dancing at their wedding. Lily in a long white dress, flowing behind her as she twirled in his arms.

Next to it, a picture of him and Lily on the Hogwarts express - he remembered this day well, the first day of seventh year. Their respective Headboy and Headgirl badges pinned to their chest, and his arm was around him - he smiled widely at the camera, his expression turning into shock when she stood on the tip of her toes to plant a sloppy kiss against his cheek.

Further up the stairs, a picture had been planted of the Marauders - it must have been fourth year. All boys in line with each other, Sirius standing next to James, ruffling his hair as James looked to the side at Peter, squirming in discomfort as Remus made lude jokes about a girl that had been obviously flirting with Peter at lunch that afternoon.

What he wouldn’t give to be back there, blind to the horrors of the world. Four innocent boys who had never seen a person killed, how tragic that it would change only three short years later.

With a shake of his head, James followed the soft sound of music, coming from Harry’s nursery. Curious, he poked his head in, watching peacefully as Lily sat in the rocker, their son at her chest, a smile radiating across her face as she looked down on the infant in her arms.

Four weeks old, and this boy was arguably the greatest thing to have ever happened to them. He didn’t smile much, opting instead to blink up at his parents in confusion as they cooed over him. But that was alright, James would teach him to smile.

James watched as he detached from Lily's chest - his eyes hazy, milk drunk, as they blinked close - falling asleep contently with a full belly.

“Hey,” his wife said - ever so calmly as she lifted the baby over her shoulder, and patted his back to release a burp.

James sighed, taking in the sight - mother and son bonding in such a special way - Lily was the happiest he had ever seen, and James had played a major role in making her that way. “Hey,” he smiled softly, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorframe. “He didn’t take long to fall asleep…”

“No…” Lily looked down, contemplative, for the briefest moment, “you alright?” She asked him, looking back up at him, her eyes wide in concern.

“Not really.” He couldn’t lie to her. He was struggling - as much as he loathed to admit it, especially when she was the one who had just delivered an actual human being - he was bored, and scared. So beyond scared that this beautiful family he took part in creating, could be gone any day.

“C’mere.” Lily stood up, Harry nestled soundly in her arm, and with her free arm she threw her pillow on the ground, sliding it across the floor with her foot until it was laid against the crib. She carefully lowered herself, until she was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed, and Harry sleeping in her lap. “Sit with me.”

James could only nod then, sitting across from her, smiling weakly.

“So… what’s up?”

“You know.”

“I do know,” she said simply, handing Harry to him. Their baby boy cuddled against his chest, and James fought back tears - gazing down at the helpless infant in his arms.

“How do you get through it everyday?” James asked after a long moment of silence, simply soaking in this moment.

Lily smiled then, deciding to lay down, her back pressed against the floor and her arms spread out on either side of her. She closed her eyes, her smile growing as James maneuvered himself until he was laying down too, his head propped up on the pillow, Harry curled up on his chest.

“I just think about him, how much I love him. How I would do anything for him.”

“He is rather perfect,” James replied, stifling a yawn.

“He’s going to be so happy growing up, all we need is love James.” She rolled on her side then, facing them. “It’s fair to say we have more than enough to give to him.”

“When all this nonsense is over we’ll take him all over the world.” James said, his mind wandering to the image of a toddler, dark messy hair, holding his parents hands as they walked down the busy streets of Paris. Maybe a few years down the line they would start to give Harry a few more siblings. His panic ebbed away, thinking of what the future had in store for them.

“We’ll take him to the World Cup,” said Lily knowingly, “quidditch and footie.”

“I can’t wait till he can go on a broom, he’ll be mad about it.”

Lily reached out, running her hand through his dark hair. “As mad as you?”

“Of course.”

She laughed then, a full belly laugh as she scooted closer to them, resting her head on his shoulder. “Better?”

“Loads.” He blinked his eyes, staring up at the dull white ceiling. “We should paint his ceiling, to look like a starry night.”

“I bet I could charm the stars to twinkle, like little night lights splattered all over-”

“We’ll have loads of time to get it done. According to all those books he’ll probably be sleeping in our room for the next few months.”

“-at least until he the night nursing ends, I would like our room back at some point.” Lily interjected, knowing full well that Harry would spend most of his nights with them for as long as he wanted.

“Until we have another…” James said knowingly, he loved becoming a parent - as hard as it was now, he couldn’t wait until he could do it over again, and again.

“It’s a plan then,” Lily said, her eyes closing. “Paint a mural on his ceiling, get our room back.”

“Make another.”

“Make another…” she agreed. And James felt worlds better.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Day of Potters

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

The Story You Used To Tell (WORKING TITLE) WORK PLACE HOLDER< WILL POST LATER

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/UwbfSNj by ColdSeasAvast Where do you disappear to when you find out you're not real? London, of course! Reeling from the final events of the Navidson Record and the bar incident, Johnny Truant has been laying low for some...time. He refuses to keep track now. A wake up call blocks his way. The truth waits on Ash Tree Lane, and the only lead is a business card for The Magnus Institute. Words: 13, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski, The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, Gen, M/M Characters: Johnny Truant, Pelafina, Lude (House of Leaves), Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Not-Them Sasha James, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Zampanò (House of Leaves), Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives) Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Lude/Johnny Truant, Karen Greene/Will Navidson, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Johhny-Typical Trigger Warnings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mercury Poison Recovery, Bad Writing, Spoilers, seriously spoilers, Implied/Referenced Suicide read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/UwbfSNj

[reglupin]

Resumo do capítulo: os marotos e as garotas fazem um acampamento no quintal dos Potter. Finalmente o grupo de heróis toma seu trem para ir à Hogwarts uma última vez.

Notas: Ninguém perguntou mas cada parte deste capítulo tem música e eu recomendo que leiam ouvindo. A ordem delas é: Rebel Rebel do David Bowie. Dreams de Fleetwood Mac. Can’t Buy Me Love dos Beatles.

Na cozinha da residência dos Potter, ouvia-se a algazarra de pessoas que se movimentavam à volta, gritos, gargalhadas e trechos de canções.

A atmosfera de excitação febril era extremamente contagiosa; Remus não conseguia parar de sorrir. Seus melhores amigos estavam fazendo o jantar e uma torta de amoras, cada um fazendo bagunça com sua função.

James e Lily estavam lá fora pegando amoras no bosque; Remus batia a massa; Peter lambia colheres; Mary lia a receita em voz alta repetidas vez. Dorcas e Lene arrumando a mesa no quintal.

A voz de Bowie ecoava pela cozinha, todos incapazes de ficar parado.

“You can't get enough, but enough ain't the test

You've got your transmission and your live wire

You got your cue line and a handful of ludes

You wanna be there when they count up the dudes.”

“Tudo pronto com a salada?”, perguntou Remus para Mary. Ele segurava um pote de massa enquanto a colher de pau enfeitiçada mexia freneticamente.

“Tudo certo, chefe!”, ela levanta o dedo em um joinha. Remus revira os olhos e sorri.

“Onde estão James e Lily?”, Peter perguntou olhando janela afora, um segundo depois os dois mencionados entram pela porta. James com o cabelo dez vezes mais despenteado, correndo na direção de Mary. Lily com o rosto sujo de amoras, sorriso rasgando o rosto.

“Mary, não deixe ela chegar perto de mim!”, pede James desesperado.

Mary se ergue como se recebesse uma missão de vida, mãos cobrindo James.

“Eu vou matar você!”, exclama Lily mas ela está sorrindo com todos os dentes.

“Matar Potter?”, repete Mary sorrindo também, saindo da frente de James e dando total espaço.

James parece indefeso, olhos arregalados e dedo apontando para Mary. “Você devia me defender!”

Mary ri. “Você não precisa”

Remus revira os olhos. “Sem sangue na minha cozinha”, diz, todos acenam concordando. “Certo, me dê suas amoras James”

James fica vermelho, ponta do pé batendo no assoalho.

“Aqui as minhas”, diz Lily entregando um cesto de amoras frescas. Remus recolhe deixando sobre a bancada. “James jogou as dele em mim até não sobrar nenhum”

Todos se viram para olhar James se encolher ao lado de Mary.

“Isso é sério?”, questiona Remus. “Quantos anos você tem, cara?”

“Pouco”, diz Mary.

Lily ri nasalada.

Remus respira fundo, ele cuida de muitas crianças.

“Vamos fazer essa torta e comer, estou faminto”, ele diz e logo todos se mexem para terminar a torta. Marlene e Dorcas aparecem e levam a comida com Lily e Peter, Mary e James preparam o fogo para assar carne como Mary sugeriu.

Remus aparece no quintal após colocar a torta para assar, barriga roncando ao sentir o cheiro de carne. Todos estão sentados na mesa de seis assentos, cadeira vazia na ponta.

“A torta vai ficar pronta em quarenta minutos”, diz Remus, suas mãos agarram a cadeira mas ele não senta. Certamente a cadeira da ponta pertence ao dono da casa.

“Olha, fizemos um ótimo trabalho”, diz Marlene para a mesa.

“Parecem ótimos”, diz Peter. “Podemos comer agora?”

James ri. “Tudo bem, Peter. Vamos, sente-se Moony”, ele indica a cadeira vaga. “Você é a razão dessa reunião.”

Remus senta com relutância.

“Reunião?”, repete Lily. “Por que estamos em reunião?”

“Devo começar?”, diz Peter. Garfo e faca em suas mãos.

“Hoje é seu aniversário, Remo?”, pergunta Dorcas.

“Eu sou de maio”, diz ele.

James se empertiga. “Não é isso! Quero dizer, estamos aqui porquê amanhã vamos para Hogwarts pela última vez. Merecemos uma reunião.”

“Moony organizou um belo jantar, e nós meros mortais ajudamos,” diz Mary. Todos riem com isso.

“Estamos aqui para comemorar nosso último dia de férias como estudantes, passamos por muita coisa nesses últimos anos mas sempre seguimos em frente”, diz James, ele olha para cada um de seus amigos. Seus marotos e suas garotas. “Somos uma família e não importa o que aconteça, sempre voltaremos para isso...”

“Para aquele que precisar de ajuda”, Lily continua o juramento.

“Para nos unir...”, diz Peter.

“Graças ao nosso ligamento mais precioso, Remus John Lupin”, James pisca para Remus.

Lily levanta sua taça. “Viva ao nosso Moony!”, exclama.

Todos levantam suas taças. “Viva ao nosso Moony!” gritam em uníssono.

Remus fica vermelho, ele não é acostumado com declarações. Seus amigos estão sorrindo, isso faz ele sorrir também. Todos conversam em harmonia, James e Marlene fazendo piadas e arrancando risadas. Lily e Mary lembram histórias do passado, Peter ouvindo atentamente.

Todos parecem felizes, inclusive Remus. Então ele sente um puxão no peito deixando ele sem equilíbrio.

Forte e potente, ele percebe.

Ele os ama, todos eles. Amor selvagem e verdadeiro.

James, Lily, Marlene, Mary, Dorcas e Peter.

Seus melhores amigos. Sua família.

Remus ficou sozinho por muitos anos, ferido e jogado num quarto com grades no sudeste de Londres.

Mas agora ele tem seu bando.

Eventualmente, Remus se levanta da cadeira. James e Mary batendo na mesa e Lene fazendo ecos com a voz.

“Obrigado”, ele diz e há tanta coisa oculta nessa palavra, tanta sinceridade. “Estou muito feliz e grato. Por favor, vamos comer”

“Oh-ho!”, grita Lily.

“É isso aí!”, exclama Mary.

Eles começam a se servir, gargalhadas e vozes preenchendo o lugar.

Remus não consegue esconder seu sorriso, sua mente implorando que isso nunca acabe.

Por favor, deixe ser assim para sempre.

Por favor, não queremos crescer.

Por favor, não deixe-os ir embora.

Por favor, não tire eles de mim.

**

O sol de outono era apenas uma pobre luz leitosa e esmaecida por trás das camadas de nuvens sobre a cidade estreita.

Remus sentia-se muito disposto, ele sempre fica inquieto quando está voltando para a escola. Isso pode soar nerd, mas Remus adora a escola, foi o primeiro lugar que ele sentiu que pertencia.

Logo depois veio a casa dos Potter.

Remus engasga com esse pensamento, disfarçando com uma tossida.

“Tudo bem, Moony?”, pergunta Peter, do outro lado da cama.

“Sim”, diz Remus. Ele começa a dobrar o lençol para ter algo a fazer com as mãos, Peter se distrai com os travesseiros. Os dois receberam a missão de apanhar tudo que for para dormir, como travesseiros e cobertores.

“Meninos!”, Mary entra no quarto. “Que tal se acamparmos?”, diz sugestiva.

Peter e Remus se olham por alguns segundos, então Remus olha para Mary.

“Não é por isso que estamos pegando os cobertores da casa?”, pergunta com um sorriso amarelo.

Mary ri como se Remus contasse uma piada muito boa, ela se joga na cadeira de estudos dele e cruza as pernas.

“Um acampamento na floresta dos Potter e sem usar magia”, diz ela.

Peter encara ela, travesseiro na frente do corpo. “Oh”, ele murmura. “Um acampamento trouxa?”, indaga.

“Exatamente”, Mary sorri de lado.

“James concordou com isso?”, perguntou Remus.

Mary riu e acenou, mãos buliçosas nos livros de Remus. “Oh sim, James foi o-“

“Eu não concordei em suspender a magia”, rosna James, passando pelo quarto. “As meninas exigiram isso então não vi problema em dizer sim”, explica e some antes de Mary retrucar.

James ficou preocupado com isso, visto que ele faz tudo com magia desde que atingiu sua maioridade. Aliás, inclusive as meninas pareciam preocupadas, ele acha que elas tinham esperança de James negar.

Obviamente, ele disse sim para Lily Evans.

“Então está bem”, murmurou Remus, pegando as coisas com Peter. “Vamos nessa”

James teve o encontro de sua vida, assim afirmou. Quando chegou de seu encontro com Lily do beco diagonal, tagarelou por duas horas sobre os lindos olhos verdes de Lily e quando não tinha mais nada sobre a garota que ele pudesse falar, começou a narrar seu encontro.

Fazer as coisas com as próprias mãos não é problema para Remus, mas é para Peter. O garoto segura os travesseiros como se nunca tivesse usado as mãos antes, tropeçando nos próprios pés a cada segundo. Remus lança um feitiço flutuante sem falar, tomando o cuidado para ninguém ver. Peter exala agradecido até chegarem na sala, muitos cobertores no sofá.

“Moony! Moony!”, James entra alarmado. Seu cabelo é uma bagunça enorme, como costuma ser sempre. “Eu fiz fogo, venham! Vamos começar!” ele arreganha um sorriso.

Remus pisca impressionado, Mary e Dorcas aparecem logo atrás com expressões iguais.

“Ele jogou papéis e u��sque na fogueira, simplesmente nasceu fogo!”, diz Mary divertida.

“Uau. Bom, então vamos ver isso!”, diz Peter apanhando o maior número de travesseiros que seus braços curtos conseguem.

James continua no mesmo lugar enquanto todos saem aos pulos, gritando e rindo. Remus ficou parado com o lençol meio dobrado nas mãos, ele não consegue olhar para James mas sente seu cheiro.

Eventualmente, James fala. “Você está bem?”, sua voz é diferente da anterior. Animação se tornou preocupação.

Remus acena. “Sim”

Um ranger no chão faz Remus olhar para cima, James agora perto dele. Se um deles esticar o braço dá para tocar o outro.

“Vamos comemorar, Moony. Vamos dar uma despedida digna para nós, sim?”, James não espera realmente que Remus responda mas sorri quando recebe um resmungo concordando.

James se aproxima mais, toda sua essência preenchendo o espaço.

“Só quero que saiba”, ele diz firme olhando para Remus. “Eu sou fodidamente feliz por você estar aqui com a gente, por fazer parte das minhas melhores lembranças. Eu tenho muito orgulho de você, meu irmão.”

Remus tenta e falha não sentir nada com essas palavras, afinal são apenas palavras. Porém, essas palavras atravessam o peito dele como uma estaca de carvalho, reduzindo seu coração ao inexistente.

Lágrimas chegam de súbito, ele pisca várias vezes e sorri com tristeza. As palavras de James repassa por sua mente várias e várias vezes, a voz em sua cabeça sibila que ele não merece.

“Obrigado”, diz ele. Ele gostaria de fazer um discurso, expressar o quanto ele é grato. Nada será suficiente, ele pensa e se engana.

James o puxa para um abraço, seus braços quentes e musculosos ao redor de Remus, segurando-o. James é tão magnético, ele é calor e conforto.

Lupin só percebe o quanto precisava disso quando é afastado pelos ombros, seu corpo procurando inconsciente o calor de James. Tudo em sua vida foi uma injustiça, a mordida, o abandono paterno, a morte de sua mãe, a solidão no orfanato.

“Você não precisa agradecer”, diz James dando-lhe um beijo no alto da cabeça. “Vamos, meu pequeno aluado”, Remus permite que James o puxe para fora. “Não queremos ouvir um sermão de Lily”, diz sorridente.

Remus fica em alerta com isso. “Os lençóis”, diz. James olha para ele com um sorriso.

“Estão esperando nas barracas por nós”, diz balançando sua varinha entre os dedos.

“Você usou magia?”, pergunta incrédulo.

James abana com as mãos. “Não fui o único. Lily e Marlene estavam fazendo um feitiço na própria barraca para ficar maior, meu feitiço de invocação é inofensivo comparado ao delas.”

Remus quase ri. “Isso parece idéia de Lene”

James pega os cobertores no sofá. “Na verdade, foi Lily que fez tudo. Ela foi pega em flagrante por Lene e fez dela sua cúmplice.”

Agora Remus ri, ambos saindo da cozinha com as mãos cheia de coisas.

“Lene sempre foi muito ingênua.”

James concorda. “Ainda bem que Dorcas apareceu, ela é a mais durona entre nós”, eles passam pela porta da cozinha que leva ao quintal.

Tudo é uma bagunça.

Três barracas de tamanhos iguais, uma fogueira no meio. Lene e Dorcas parecem discutir entre elas, Lily ao redor tentando invocar a paz e Peter comendo um saco de minhocas doces.

“Quando você me disse que Dorcas apareceu e acabou com o plano de Lily, eu duvidei mas agora eu acredito”, diz Remus, ambos estão olhando para o grupo de amigos. “Você acha que elas vão lutar?”, pergunta preocupado.

James não pensa muito nisso. “Nha, estão apenas conversando sobre a melhor opção .”

“Bem, Dorcas é a pessoa mais corajosa que conheço”, diz Remus.

“Oh, sim. Estou até envergonhado com este fato”, ambos riem.

Quando Mary Macdonald vê os dois se aproximando, praticamente geme de alívio.

“Travesseiros, que bom! Agora posso tacar em Dorcas para fazer ela parar”, diz Mary pegando dois travesseiros de Remus.

“Então elas não vão tirar a barraca?”, pergunta James parecendo muito descontente.

Mary levanta o lado da boca. “Lily diz que a barraca é grande assim mesmo” os três ficam em silêncio com isso.

“Mas todos nós cabemos nela”, diz James exasperado.

Mary bufa uma risada. “Eu sei, é a porra da barraca mais grande que já vi”

James joga seus travesseiros dentro de uma barraca. Remus se ergue quando Dorcas levanta a voz, Lily ganha um metro com isso.

Todos ficam em silêncio, observando assustados a ruiva mudar de humor.

Remus vai até elas, ficando entre as duas, braços longos empurrando suavemente o peito de cada uma.

“O.que.porra.estão.fazendo?”, sibila. Ele olha para cada uma e volta com sua postura.“Lily, você disse nada de magia então nada de magia. Eu não quero ter uma dor de cabeça com o grito de vocês, podem ir lutar longe daqui.”

Lily pisca, surpresa com a dureza na voz de Remus.

“Tire sua barraca e vamos comer, estou faminto”, continua ele. Dorcas arregala os olhos, mãos pronta para caso precise.

Talvez seja a altura assustadora de Remus, ou talvez seja sua carranca quando está com fome. Não dá para saber o que faz Lily continuar em silêncio, no mesmo lugar enquanto Remus se afasta até Peter e seus sacos de comida. Eventualmente, Lily se move para tirar o feitiço de sua barraca.

Todos parecem pisar em ovos, olhando de relance uns para os outros. Ninguém ousando falar nada, agindo com naturalidade forçada.

Quando Remus devora cinco pães e esvazia dois sacos de pipoca doce, Peter que estava engasgado por segurar uma tosse, solta uma sequência de barulhos asmáticos. James ao seu lado, alisando suas costas e rindo.

“Quem quer uísque?”, berra Mary.

Remus é o primeiro a levantar o copo.

**

Eles deviam ter feito um acampamento sem magia há muito tempo, afinal é o maior barato. James sempre teve o hábito de acampar com a família quando iam visitar os parentes, ele adorava ajudar o pai e ser colocado para fazer fogueira bruxa.

Assistindo o fogo encantado crepitar enquanto sua mãe cantava músicas antigas de vilas e fadas artesãs.

“Rápido, você tem quatro pontos”, diz Lily.

“Eu vou apostar”, berra Remus. “Meu Deus, aposto todos os pontos”, ele agarra os cabelos e ri loucamente.

Lily arregala os olhos. “Oho, então tá”

James sorri, nada se compara com isso. Seus amigos bêbados e risonhos, jogando e dançando em volta da fogueira. Ele observa enquanto Remus joga os dados e para de respirar quando os números dois e dois caem iguais, um grito indignado queimando seu ouvido.

“Viva!” grita Remus, ao mesmo tempo que Lily grita, “Droga!”

Moony pega as seis moedas de Lily e joga no bolso, rindo de alegria. A ruiva se levanta, caçando moedas em sua bolsa para uma revanche. Peter fica encolhido ao lado de James, ele ficou vinte minutos esperando sua vez de jogar e ainda assim não parece irritado em ver que Lily vai roubar a partida dele.

Quando Lily volta com quatro moedas, Remus já está com as cartas embaralhadas. O fim do jogo é Remus ganhando, o jogo acaba com Lily revoltada acusando Remus de roubar.

Mary se aproxima e senta ao lado esquerdo de James, garrafa de uísque pela metade. “O que deu nela?”

James nega com a cabeça, porém Peter diz. “Remus ganhou dela no jogo de cartas e Lily está com dificuldades em aceitar isso”

A ruiva vira a cabeça para Peter, olhos insanos. “O que você disse?!”, sibila. Peter encolhe de tamanho, James batendo em suas costas amigável.

“Você precisa se acalmar Lily. Vamos jogar outra coisa, que tal?”, sugere James.

“Não quero jogar!”, resmunga.

“Tudo bem, não vamos jogar”, diz James, ele olha para seus amigos em busca de ajuda.

“Vamos sentar e beber”, diz Mary dando um grande gole na garrafa.

“E comer marshmallows”, enfatiza James. Lily parece sorrir. “Muito bem, venha cá camélia”, James puxa Lily para seus braços.

Eles começam uma conversa amigável, falam sobre música e sobre o passado. A nostalgia os carrega quando começam a lembrar, cada um falando de uma memória. Mary e Remus sentaram lado a lado, bebendo enquanto riam das lembranças de James.

Em pouco tempo, todos estavam largados e cheios, felizes e nostálgicos.

Lene e Dorcas estão dançando loucamente ao som de Fleetwood Mac, Remus puxa Mary para se juntar as duas. A garota pega uma nova garrafa, quadris imperativos acompanhando Remus em uma dança animada. Lene e Dorcas imitam os amigos e aos poucos até Peter está dançando.

Todos cantam a letra aos berros.

Thunder only happens when it's raining

Players only love you when they're playing

Women they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

James e Lily estavam mais afastados, a cabeça de Lily no colo de James.

“Eu comprei um livro pra você”, disse James. “O nome é a dama das camélias, achei que gostaria.”

Lily corou, ninguém nunca lhe deu essas reações. Ela sente raiva de James por dizer essas coisas e achar que não tem problema.

“Eu conto pra você o que achei”, murmura ela.

James abaixa a cabeça e seus óculos deslizam. “Estou contando com isso”, sorri.

“Está?”, sua voz falha.

“Sim, vou presentear você com livros para me contar sobre eles. Lê-los é tão sem graça”, James ri.

Lily quase o puxa pelo pescoço. Seus amigos estão dançando, bêbados e tontos. Lily fica parada, o coração batendo muito alto.

Ela deseja por um momento que James não diga essas coisas, o coração dela vai cair a qualquer momento. Mas enquanto James olha sorrindo para seus amigos, Lily pensa que se for para se apaixonar então que seja por James Potter.

“Será um prazer narrar tudo pra você”, diz Lily.

James olha para ela, os olhos brilhantes e o maldito sorriso com covinhas. Ele beija Lily na testa e ela fecha os olhos, o coração caindo.

“Dance comigo”, pede James num sussurro.

Lily balança a cabeça mas James já está de pé oferecendo-lhe a mão para levantar. Relutante, ela vai com James para perto da fogueira.

A floresta parecia vibrar com a alegria do grupo, cada um radiante. Não importava o que aconteceria depois de Hogwarts, eles teriam essas lembranças para sempre.

Os beatles começou a tocar, animado e contagiante. James foi puxado por Lily para o meio deles, todos formando um círculo desigual. A copa das árvores cantavam junto com John Lennon, palmas e palmas ecoando pelo lugar.

Peter dançava com Lene e Dorcas, Mary era girada por Remus e Lily dançava perto de James.

Era tudo tão certo.

Quatro jovens amigos dançando ao redor de uma fogueira, comemorando o último dia de férias como estudantes antes de se formarem.

“O álcool é a resposta!”, gritou Remus.

Mary riu loucamente, agarrando a garrafa e girando. “Viva ao álcool!”, ela gritou.

Lily riu, James estava olhando para ela. Ele sorriu e Lily corou, ela nunca ficaria habituada em ser olhada por James. Às vezes, parecia que ele podia ver coisas que ninguém mais podia, ele parecia apaixonado.

Nenhuma surpresa.

James cantou suavemente, olhos em Lily enquanto a garota gira no lugar.

Say you don't need no diamond rings

And I'll be satisfied

Tell me that you want the kind of things

That money just can't buy

I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love

“Mary!”, gritou Remus. Ambos caíram no chão, Mary tentando levantar de cima de Remus. Lene e Dorcas riram, Peter confuso se ria ou ajudava. Lily e James pararam para ver, James rindo loucamente do amigo bêbado e Lily dando-lhe uma cotovelada antes de ir ajudar.

A música continuou até a fogueira apagar.

**

Remus teve a sensação de que acabara de se deitar para dormir na barraca com Peter quando foi acordado por Lily.

“Hora de levantar, Remus, querido”, sussurrou ela, se afastando para acordar Peter.

Ainda estava escuro lá fora. Peter resmungou alguma coisa quando Lily o acordou.

“Já está na hora?”, exclamou Peter tonto de sono.

Os garotos se vestiram em silêncio, demasiados sonolentos para falar, depois, bocejando e se espreguiçando, os dois saíram da barraca rumo à casa.

Lily usou magia para fechar e dobrar as barracas, e o grupo deixou o acampamento o mais depressa que pôde, passando pelo bosque à porta da casa.

Remus bebeu muito uísque na noite passada, mais do que deveria.

“Bom dia!”, diz James. Ele parece jovem e sem ressaca, irritante, pensa Remus. “Lily fez poções para curar ressaca.” fala entregando um copo.

Remus segura emocionado. “Que Deus abençoe Lily Evans”, ele bebe tudo em um gole.

James ri, “Sim, abençoada seja”, ele batuca os dedos. Remus se dirige para o quarto.

O malão dele estava pronto com o seu material escolar e seus pertences mais preciosos – o mapa dos marotos, a caixa de cigarros e a tela encantada que o ajuda a ler, presente de Lily no quinto ano. Ele fecha a tábua no chão onde costuma esconder as caixas de cigarro, verificara duas vezes cada cantinho de seu quarto para ver se esquecera livros de feitiços ou penas, baixara da parede o calendário em que fizera a contagem regressiva para o dia primeiro de setembro, riscando cada dia que passava até a volta a Hogwarts.

Havia no ar uma inquestionável tristeza de fim de férias quando Remus entrou na cozinha. O café da manhã estava posto, Effie e James mexendo nas panelas. As meninas e Peter esperavam na mesa, rostos deprimentes e pálidos. Remus não parecia melhor que eles, vestia um jeans e uma camiseta; trocaria pelas vestes de escola no Expresso de Hogwarts.

A essa altura, Remus já estava acostumado a embarcar na plataforma nove e meia.

Era apenas uma questão de rumar diretamente para a barreira, aparentemente sólida, que dividia as plataformas nove e dez.

A única parte difícil era fazer isso discretamente de modo a não chamar a atenção dos trouxas. Fizeram isso em grupos; Remus, James e Peter foram os primeiros; eles se encostaram descontraidamente na barreira, conversando despreocupados e deslizaram de lado por ela e, ao fazerem isso, a plataforma nove e meia se materializou diante deles.

O Expresso de Hogwarts, uma reluzente locomotiva vermelha, já estava aguardando, soltando nuvens repolhudas de fumaça, através das quais os muitos alunos de Hogwarts e seus pais parados na plataforma pareciam fantasmas escuros.

Remus, James e Peter saíram em busca de lugares e logo estavam guardando a bagagem em uma cabine mais ou menos na metade do trem. Depois, eles tornaram a saltar para se despedir de Euphemia e Fleamont Potter.

“Talvez eu volte a ver vocês mais cedo do que pensam”, disse Fleamont, rindo, ao dar um abraço de despedida em James.

“Por quê?”, perguntou Peter interessado.

“Você verá”, respondeu Fleamont.

“É, eu até sinto vontade de estar estudando em Hogwarts este ano”, disse Euphemia, contemplando com um ar quase saudoso o trem.

“Por quê?”, perguntou Remus impaciente.

“Vocês vão ter um ano interessante”, comentou Fleamont, com os olhos cintilando. “Talvez eu até peça licença para ir dar uma espiada...”

“Uma espiada em quê?”, perguntou Lily. Ela e as garotas aparecem com capas escuras.

Mas nessa hora ouviram o apito e a Sra. Potter conduziu-os às portas do trem.

“Obrigada por nos convidar, Sra. Potter”, disse Lily, depois que embarcaram, fecharam a porta e se debruçaram na janela do corredor para falar com ela e o marido.

“É, obrigado por tudo, Sra. Potter”, disse Mary.

“Ah, me chame de Euphemia, queridas”, respondeu ela. “Eu os convidaria para o Natal, mas... bem, imagino que vocês vão querer ficar em Hogwarts, por causa... de uma coisa ou outra.”

“Mamãe!”, exclamou James. “Que é que vocês dois sabem que nós não sabemos?”

“Vocês vão descobrir hoje à noite”, disse Euphemia sorrindo. “Vai ser muito excitante, reparem bem, estou muito contente que tenham mudado as regras...”

“Que regras?”, perguntaram juntos.

“Oh, não vai adiantar, de qualquer forma”, disse ela falando com os botões.

“Tenho certeza de que o Prof. Dumbledore vai contar a vocês... agora, comportem-se? Ouviu bem Remus? E você James!”, disse Fleamont.

Os pistões assobiaram e o trem começou a andar.

“Conta para a gente o que vai acontecer em Hogwarts!”, berrou James pela janela, quando seus pais foram se distanciando rapidamente. “Que regras é que vão mudar?”

Mas Euphemia apenas sorriu e acenou. Antes que o trem tivesse virado a primeira curva, ela e Fleamont tinham desaparatado.

Os garotos e as garotas voltaram à cabine. Peter abriu o malão, tirou as vestes marrons e atirou-as por cima dos ombros.

“Psiu!”, sussurrou Mary de repente, levando o indicador aos lábios e apontando para a cabine ao lado. Todos prestaram atenção e ouviram uma voz conhecida que entrava pela porta aberta.

“... Dumbledore gosta muito de sangues ruins e Durmstrang não admite esse tipo de ralé. Durmstrang tem uma política muito mais certa que Hogwarts com relação às Artes das Trevas. Os alunos de lá até aprendem essa matéria, não é só essas bobagens de defesa que a gente aprende...”

Lily se levantou, foi pé ante pé até a porta da cabine e fechou-a para abafar a voz de Severus Snape.

“Então ele acha que Durmstrang teria sido melhor para ele, é?”, disse ela zangada. “Eu gostaria que ele tivesse ido para lá, aí não teríamos que aturá-lo.”

James puxou ela para seu colo. “Não ligue pra ele”, disse sussurrado então ele esfregou o nariz no dela como um cervo cuidando de seu filhote.

O silêncio mortal e olhares foi o suficiente para Lily e James levantarem os olhos.

“O quê, porra, você está no colo de James Potter?!”, exclama Mary.

Remus ergue uma sobrancelha. “Aconteceu alguma coisa no acampamento?”

Lily ganhou um forte rubor nas bochechas e James sorriu tão amplamente que Remus entendeu tudo no mesmo segundo.

Mary e os outros não ficaram satisfeitos, durante toda a viagem eles atacaram o casal de perguntas. Lily estava vermelha demais para falar qualquer coisa e James estabeleceu uma greve de silêncio.

Remus conseguiu terminar sua leitura quando o Expresso de Hogwarts começou finalmente a reduzir a velocidade até parar de todo na escuridão de breu da estação de Hogsmeade.

[ifnowhynot]

Wines of the year, 2023

Given the nature of my work and the fine wine folk I am so lucky to rub elbows with on the regular, I taste thousands of wines each year. These are the ones I remember most fondly: the way they opened the world, the way they centred experience, and all the kind souls that shared them with me. 

I will remember 2023 as the year I really shed my ignorance and fell in love with Bordeaux and a year in which my partner and I continued our love affair with Jura Chards and Loire Chenins and entered into a new obsession with the great dessert wines of the world.

This list probably looks unhinged to the non-obsessed haha. Without having a social media outlet these last few years, it feels like some small gesture to the hardworking producers who crafted these works of art to be able to shout them out and thank them for their work. So here were the gems:

MY TOP 12 WHITES

Dom BELARGUS 2018 ‘Rouères’ Chenin Blanc, Anjou AOC, Loire

Dom STÉPHANE TISSOT 2018 ‘Les Bruyères’ Chardonnay, Arbois AOC, Jura

O'ROURKE FAMILY ESTATE 2020 'Twisted Pine' Chardonnay, Lake Country, BC

LA FRENZ 2011 ‘Knorr Vineyard’ Semillon, Naramata Bench, BC

PATRICK SULLIVAN 2020 Baw Baw Shire Chardonnay, Victoria, Australia

BIEN NACIDO 2020 Estate Chardonnay, Santa Maria Valley, California

CLOS DU MOULIN AUX MOINES 2020 Pernand-Vergelesses AOC 'Les Combottes', Burgundy

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Meursault AOC 1er Cru Perrières, Chardonnay, Burgundy

M. CHAPOUTIER 2018 Hermitage AOC ‘Chante-Alouette’, Marsanne, Rhône

LITTORAI 2013 ‘Mays Canyon’ Chardonnay, Sonoma Coast, California

BINDI 2015 ‘Kostas Rind’ Chardonnay, Mornington Peninsula, Australia

RAMEY 2019 Hyde Vineyard Chardonnay, Napa Valley, California

MY TOP 10 REDS

Ch LÉOVILLE-LAS-CASES 1975 Grand Vin, Saint-Julien AOC, Grand Cru Classé Deuxième, Bordeaux

Ch LA TOUR DE MONS 1982 Margaux AOC, Bordeaux

Dom MUGNERET-GIBOURG 2020 Échezeaux Grand Cru AOC, Burgundy

HIYU 2017 ‘Aura’, Pinot Gris & Pinot Noir, Columbia Gorge, Oregon

TWO VINTNERS 2019 ‘The Waiting List’ Syrah, Yakima Valley, Washington

AGRI SEGRETUM 2018 Todi DOC ‘Marmocchio’, Sangiovese/Sagrantino, Umbria

TROON VINEYARD 2022 ‘Siskiyou’ Syrah, Applegate Valley, Oregon

CLENDENEN 2018 ‘Bricco Buon Natale’ Nebbiolo, Bien Nacido Vineyard, California

REINE PÉDAUQUE 1978 Savigny-lès-Beaune AOC 1er Cru Clos des Guettes, Burgundy

CA' LA BIONDA 2010 'CasalVegri' Valpolicella Classico Superiore DOC, Veneto

MY TOP 10 APERITIF & DESSERT WINES

PATRICIUS 2008 Tokaj Aszú 6 Puttonyos, Hungary

Dom BELARGUS 2018 ‘Quarts’, Quarts-de-Chaume Grand Cru AOC, Chenin, Loire

DONNAFUGATA 2015 ‘Ben Ryé’ Passito di Pantelleria DOC, Zibibbo, Sicily

ROLET 2010 Arbois Vin Jaune AOC, Savagnin, Jura

CASTELLO DI MELETO 2011 Vin Santo di Chianti Classico, Toscana

BARBEITO 20yo Malvasia 'Ribeiro Real', Madeira

COCKBURNS 1997 Vintage Port

Dom BERTHET-BONDET 2009 Château-Chalon AOC Vin Jaune, Jura

MARCEL CABELIER 2008 Château-Chalon AOC Vin Jaune, Jura

THUNEVIN-CALVET 1982 Maury, Vin Doux Naturel, Grenache, Roussillon

HONOURABLE MENTIONS:

BUBBLES

LELARGE-PUGEOT 2008 Quintessence Millésime Brut, Vrigny 1er Cru, Champagne

EGLY-OURIET NV Brut Rosé Grand Cru, Ambonnay, Champagne

RIVETTO 2016 ‘Kaskal’ Blanc de Nebbiolo Brut Nature, Barolo, Piemonte

PETER LAUER 1992 Réserve Sekt Riesling, Mosel

MOVIA 2015 Puro, Brda, Slovenia

LELARGE-PUGEOT 2008 Millésime Extra Brut, Vrigny 1er Cru, Champagne

R.C. LEMAIRE 2012 ‘Les Hautes Prieures’ Blanc de Blancs, Hautvillers 1er Cru, Champagne

MONMARTHE NV 'Les Grimpants' Blanc de Noirs, Ludes 1er Cru, Pinot Noir, Champagne

ANDRE CLOUET NV ‘Un jour de 1911…’ Brut, Pinot Noir, Bouzy Grand Cru, Champagne

Dom STÉPHANE TISSOT NV ‘BBF’ Blanc de Blancs Crémant du Jura AOC

Dom MANN 2014 Crémant d’Alsace AOC ‘Infiniment Fou’, Chardonnay

ALBERT BICHOT NV Crémant de Bourgogne AOC Blanc de Blancs Extra Brut

POMMERY 2004 Cuvée Louise, Champagne

LAURENT-PERRIER 2008 Millésimé Brut, Champagne

WHITES

France - Loire

Dom BELARGUS 2018 ‘Coteau des Treilles' Monopole, Chenin Blanc, Anjou AOC, Loire

Dom BELARGUS 2020 ‘Rouères’ Chenin Blanc, Sec, Anjou AOC, Loire

Dom BELARGUS 2019 ‘Gaudrets’ Chenin Blanc, Savennieres AOC, Loire

DAMIEN LAUREAU 2015 'Le Bel Ouvrage' Savennières AOC, Chenin Blanc, Loire

LUNEAU PAPIN 2010 ‘L d’Or’ Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie, Loire

LUNEAU PAPIN 2007 ‘L d’Or’ Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie, Loire

LUNEAU PAPIN 2006 ‘Excelsior’ Muscadet Sèvre et Maine AOC Goulaine, Loire

France - Burgundy & Jura

Dom HEITZ-LOCHARDET 2014 Chassagne-Montrachet AOC 1er Cru La Maltroie, Chardonnay

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Meursault AOC 1er Cru Charmes, Chardonnay

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Meursault AOC ‘Clos du Cromin’, Chardonnay

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Puligny-Montrachet AOC ‘Les Levrons’, Chardonnay

Dom LATOUR-GIRARD 2017 Meursault AOC Cuvée Charles Maxime, Chardonnay

Dom DUREUIL-JANTHIAL 2020 Puligny Montrachet AOC ‘Corvée des Vignes’

Dom DEUX ROCHES 2021 Pouilly Fuissé AOC ‘Vieilles Vignes’

France - Alsace

Dom TRIMBACH 2007 ‘Clos Ste Hune’, Grand Cru Rosacker, Riesling

Dom WEINBACH 2012 ‘Cuvée Ste Catherine’, Pinot Gris

Dom ALBERT BOXLER 2014 Alsace Grand Cru AOC Brand, Pinot Gris

Dom TRIMBACH 2016 Alsace Grand Cru AOC Mandelberg, Riesling

France - Rhône

RAYMOND USSEGLIO 2017 ‘Pure Roussanne’ Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Blanc

GRAND VENEUR 2004 ‘La Fontaine’ Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Blanc, Roussanne

DOMAINE DE LA SOLITUDE 2021 Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Blanc

Dom CHANTE CIGALE 2011 Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Blanc

France - Other

LELARGE-PUGEOT 2016 Vrigny Blanc, Coteaux Champenois AOC, Chardonnay

Dom STÉPHANE TISSOT 2018 ‘Les Graviers’ Chardonnay, Arbois AOC, Jura

Dom STÉPHANE TISSOT 2019 ‘Patchwork’ Chardonnay, Arbois AOC, Jura

Dom DES MARNES BLANCHES 2020 Savagnin ‘Les Molates’, Côtes du Jura AOC

Germany

SELBACH OSTER 2007 Graacher Domprost Riesling Spätlese, Mosel

DR. BÜRKLIN-WOLF 1997 Ruppertsberger Gaisböhl ‘R’ Riesling Aisles, Pfalz

HEXAMER 2010 Schlossböckelheimer In den Felsen Riesling ‘No.1’, Nahe

DÖNNHOFF 2015 Wessburgunder Trocken, Nahe

USA

HOPE WELL 2015 ‘Improbable’ Riesling, Eola-Amity Hills, Oregon

ALEX GAMBAL / PETER WORK 2017 Sta. Rita Hills Chardonnay, California

ST. ROMEDIUS 2019 Napa Valley Chardonnay, California

TROON VINEYARD 2022 Vermentino, Applegate Valley, Oregon

TABLAS CREEK 2014 'Esprit Blanc' Roussanne/Gren.Blanc/Picpoul, Paso Robles, California

EVENING LAND 2022 ’Seven Springs’ Chardonnay, Eola-Amity Hills, Oregon

CHATEAU MONTELENA 2019 Napa Valley Chardonnay, California

ST. INNOCENT 2017 'Freedom Hill Vineyard' Chardonnay, Willamette Valley

DELILLE CELLARS 2021 'Chaleur' Blanc, Sauv Blanc/Semillon, Columbia Valley, Washington

LIÉGEOIS DUPONT 2021 ‘Le Blanc’, Marsanne/Viognier, Red Mountain, Washington

CHAPPELLET 2015 Napa Valley Chardonnay, California

PATZ & HALL 2016 Sonoma Coast Chardonnay, California

Canada

O'ROURKE FAMILY ESTATE 2020 Estate Chardonnay, Lake Country, Okanagan

CAVE SPRING 2004 ‘Réserve’ Riesling, Niagara Peninsula, Ontario

TANTALUS 2020 ‘Old Vines’ Riesling, Okanagan Valley

PINARD & FILS 2021 ‘Nuance de Gris’ Frontenac Gris, Quebec

NORMAN HARDIE 2014 ‘Unfiltered’ Chardonnay, Prince Edward County, Ontario

Australia

LEEUWEN ESTATE 2002 ‘Art Series’ Chardonnay, Margaret River

TYRELL’S WINES 2013 ‘Single Vineyard HVD Hunter Semillon’

UMAMU 2010 Sauvignon Blanc Semillon, Margaret River

South Africa

KEN FORRESTER 2016 ‘The FMC’ Chenin Blanc, Stellenbosch

HAMILTON RUSSELL 2014 Chardonnay, Hemel-en-Aarde

BOEKENHOUTSKLOOF 2007 Semillon, Franschhoek

Italy

DARIO PRINČIČ NV ‘Vino Bianco’, Friuli Venezia Giulia

SUAVIA 2017 ‘Monte Carbonare’ Soave Classico AOC, Garganega, Veneto

MARRAMIERO 2016 'Punta di Colle' Chardonnay, Colline Pescarese, Abruzzo

Other

LÓPEZ DE HEREDIA 2006 Viña Tondonia Reserva Blanco, Rioja DOCa, Spain

RAUL PÉREZ 2019 ‘Sketch’ Albariño, Rias Baixas DO, Spain

SOUS LE VÉGETAL NV ‘Octave’ Muscat, Samos, Greece

ALTAR ECO 2018 'Edad Media' Blanco, Chard/Chenin/Sauv Blanc, Uco Valley, Argentina

REDS

France - Bordeaux

Ch LE PUY 2010 Barthélemy, Francs Côtes de Bordeaux

Ch D’ISSAN 2009 Margaux AOC, Grand Cru Classé Troisième

Ch LANGOA-BARTON 2015 Saint-Julien AOC, Grand Cru Classé Troisième

Ch GRESSIER GRAND POUJEAUX 1983 Moulis-en-Médoc AOC

Ch FOURCAS HOSTEN 1983 Listrac-Médoc AOC

Ch CANTEMERLE 2019 Haut-Médoc AOC, Grand Cru Classé, Cinquième

France - Burgundy

Dom VINCENT LATOUR 2013 Meursault AOC 1er Cru Les Cras

CLOS DU MOULIN AUX MOINES 2020 Auxey-Duresses AOC ‘Clos du Moulin aux Moines’ Monopole

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Volnay AOC 1er Cru Taillepieds

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Volnay AOC 1er Cru Caillerets, Pinot Noir

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Volnay AOC 1er Cru Clos des Chênes

Dom BITOUZET-PRIEUR 2017 Volnay AOC 1er Cru Pitures

ALBERT BICHOT 2018 Fixin AOC 1er Cru Clos de la Perrière Monopole

JEAN-CLAUDE RAMONET 2020 Monthelie AOC

France - Rhône

MICHEL COURTIAL 1986 Hermitage AOC, Syrah

ALAIN GRAILLOT 1991 Crozes-Hermitage AOC, Syrah

DOMAINE DE LA SOLITUDE 2020 ‘Vin de la Solitude’ Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Rouge

MARTIN TEXIER 2021 'Cérouan Vieilles Vigne du Clau' Serrine

FRANCK BALTHAZAR 2020 Cornas AOC, Syrah

YVES CUILLERON 2011 Saint-Joseph AOC ‘L’Amarybelle’, Syrah

YVES CUILLERON 2016 Cornas ‘Les Côtes’, Syrah

Ch DE BEAUCASTEL 2001 Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Rouge

XAVIER VIGNON 2010 ‘Cuvée Anonyme’ Châteauneuf-du-Pape AOC Rouge

DOMAINE DU PEGAU 2017 Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe AOC Rouge, Rhône

France - Other

Dom DES MASQUES 2020 ‘Syrahdictive’, Syrah/Viognier, Provence

J.L. DENOIS 2019 Pinot Noir ‘Grand Vin’, Limoux

Dom BOBINET 2014 'Amatéüs Bobi' Saumur-Champigny, Cabernet Franc, Loire

Dom BONNET COTTON 2022 Beaujolais AOC Cru Brouilly, Gamay, Beaujolais

Dom STÉPHANE TISSOT 2018 ‘DD’ Rouge, Arbois AOC, Pinot Noir/Trousseau/Poulsard, Jura

Italy

ROAGNA 2011 ‘Pajè’ Barbaresco DOCG, Piemonte

CASA RAIA 2018 Brunello di Montalcino DOCG, Sangiovese Grosso, Toscana

È JAMU 2021 ‘Vertigine’ Canaiolo, Chianti, Toscana

CASA RAIA 2011 Brunello di Montalcino DOCG, Toscana

CASTELLO ROMITORIO 2007 Brunello di Montalcino DOCG, Toscana

MASI 1988 Amarone della Valpolicella Classico DOCG, Veneto

RIVETTO 2021 ‘Vigna Lirano’ Amphora Nebbiolo d’Alba DOC, Serralunga d’Alba, Barolo

ROCCHE DEI MANZONI 2015 Bricco Manzoni, Red Blend, Langhe, Piemonte

NINO NEGRI 2006 ‘5 Stelle Sfursat’, Nebbiolo, Sforzato di Valtellina DOCG, Lombardia

VILLA PAPIANO 2017 ‘I Probi’ Romagna Sangiovese Modigliana Riserva DOC, Emilia-Romagna

PLANETA 2013 ‘Santa Cecilia’ Noto DOC, Nero d’Avola, Sicily

FORADORI 2016 Sgarzon Teroldego, Alto Adige

SASSICAIA 2015 Bolgheri Sassicaia DOC, Toscana

Spain

ALVAR DE DIOS 2020 ‘Camino de los Arrieros’ Red Field Blend, Arribes

SIERRA DE TOLOÑO 2021 ‘La Dula Garnachas de Altura’ Grenache, Rioja Alavesa DOCa

SCALA DEI 2017 ‘Cartoixa de Scala Dei’ Priorat DOQ, Garnacha/Cariñena

LOPEZ DE HEREDIA 2007 Viña Bosconia Reserva Tinto, Rioja DOCa

COMANDO G 2018 ‘Bruja de Rosaz’ Garnacha, Sierra de Gredos

USA

HIYU 2019 ‘Moon Dog’, thirty different clones of heirloom Pinot Noir, Columbia Gorge, Oregon

MARGINS 2022 Counoise, Santa Clara Valley, California

GROUNDED WINE CO. 2021 ‘Steady State’ Cabernet Sauvignon, Oak Knoll District, Napa, California

BETZ FAMILY WINERY 2018 ‘Père de Famille’ Cabernet Sauvignon, Columbia Valley, Washington

SKY 2015 Mt. Veeder Napa Valley Zinfandel, California

SKY 2015 Mt. Veeder Napa Valley Syrah, California

HOPE WELL 2019 ‘Sunday’s Child’ Pinot Noir, Eola-Amity Hills, Oregon

PURPLE HANDS 2021 Haakon Lenai Vineyard Pinot Noir, Dundee Hills, Oregon

LITTORIA 2021 ‘The Pivot Vineyard’ Pinot Noir, Sonoma Coast, California

DUMOL 2021 ‘Wester Reach’ Pinot Noir, Russian River Valley, California

Australia

BONDAR 2020 ‘Rayner Vineyard’ Shiraz, McLaren Vale

ELDERTON 2018 Command Vineyard Shiraz, Barossa Valley

OCHOTA BARRELS 2017 ‘Fugazi Vineyard’ Grenache, McLaren Vale

Other

GARRAFEIRA 2011 ‘Sidónia de Sousa’ Baga, Bairrada DOC, Portugal

LE RICHE 2011 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, Stellenbosch, South Africa

GREYSTONE VINEYARD 2020 ‘Ferment’ Pinot Noir, North Canterbury, New Zealand

BURN COTTAGE 2019 ‘Sauvage Vineyard’ Pinot Noir, Bannockburn, Central Otago, New Zealand

GUT OGGAU 2017 ‘Atanasius’ Rot, Burgenland, Austria

SANTA RITA 1996 Casa Réal Cabernet Sauvignon, Maípo Valley DO, Chile

NICOLUZO 2013 Merlot, Corfu, Greece

HENRY OF PELHAM 2012 Baco Noir ‘Reserve’, Ontario, Canada

APERITIF & DESSERT WINES

Dom DES MARNES BLANCHES NV Blanc Macvin du Jura AOC, France

RABL 2017 Riesling Trockenbeerenauslese, Langenlois DAC, Austria

Dom BELARGUS 2018 ‘Layon’ Moelleux, Chenin, Coteaux du Layon 1er Cru Chaume, France

BARBEITO 10yo Sercial Reserva Velha, Madeira, Portugal

BODEGA DIOS BACO ‘Baco Imperial’ 20 Year Old Amontillado Sherry VOS, Spain

[germanpostwarmodern]

Church St Peter (1967-68) in Duisburg, Germany, by Manfred Ludes

[sporesmoldandfungi]

Magic - The Client

Author’s Note : Thank you all for liking and reblogging the story so far, it really means a lot! I’ve been writing this series since March 2021, which is why I’m pumping out chapters like crazy and it’s nice to see people enjoying it. I’m going to upload a masterlist as well as start requests for one shots. Thank you again so much!

Word Count : 2438

The next week was filled with remodeling, repainting and moving into the firehouse. as well as filming a promotional commercial. They also hired a receptionist named Janine. She was a short but self assured woman. She had a thick New York accent, and large circular glasses that always sat on her nose, so she could gaze at you judgingly without the glass barrier.

It was a cool fall morning, it was also the calmest day they have had since signing the lease of the firehouse. Peter was assisting in hanging the sign for their business outside the firehouse and Egon sat on the edge of Janine's desk, typing on his calculator.

Genevieve came downstairs, her hair in a messy ponytail and wearing a pair of overalls. She smiled at Janine and went to stand by Egon. "Whatcha doing?"

"Trying to figure out a pricing policy that would allow us to get out of debt as well as make a profit." he said, still looking down.

"That's heavy."

"You could say that."

The two stayed silent only for a moment or so, then it was broken by the sound of a car entering the garage.

Genevieve stood up and ran to Peter, "Is that the car?"

"If you could call it that." he scoffed.

Ray rolled down the driver's seat window and stuck his head out, "Gen! Grab the tool box, I'm gonna need help fixing the old girl."

Genevieve nodded and ran into the back office to grab the tool box. Peter looked offended that Ray didn't ask him to assist in fixing the car, but deep down, he knew he didn't want to. Genevieve returned about less than a minute later, opened the roof of the car, and bent down to begin working.

Peter began to walk over to his office, which was placed directly behind Janine's desk. He stopped when he watched Egon sneaking glances at Genevieve's bent figure over the hood of the car. He walked over to him with a smug grin, popping himself next to Egon.

"Sightseeing is my favorite part of New York, Egon. You took it a step forward, you have discovered beauty in our own home." Peter said, motioning to Genevieve's behind.

"I don't know what you're implying, Peter." Egon replied, staring down at his calculator.

"You don't have to lie to me, I know you two have the hots for each other." he said. When Peter noticed he wasn't getting Egon's attention, he grabbed his head, pulling it up to look at Genevieve. "Can't say I blame you, no man can resist that look."

Egon closed his eyes as Peter held his head up to look ahead. He hated that Peter caught him staring, he was not objectifying her the way Peter currently was. He only hoped Genevieve couldn't hear Peter's lude comments.

Janine groaned loudly, slamming her hands on her desk in frustration. Egon took this as his ticket out. He pushed out of Peter's grasp, walking over to assist Janine. Peter took one last look, then finally retreated back to his office.

There were a few minutes of quiet, busy work. No one paid any attention to the woman who stepped through the firehouse's large doors. She called out to someone as she walked in, and looked around strangely as she heard no response. She looked forward and let out a sigh of relief when she saw Janine, filing her nails at the reception desk.

"Excuse me, this is the Ghostbusters office, right?" the woman said.

Janine put down her nail file, looking up at the woman. She had long, curly brunette hair. She tightly held a purple shawl around her, looking around for the strange men she remembered from their commercial. "It is, can I help you?"

"Well I don't have an appointment, but I'd like to talk to someone, you see-"

Before the woman could finish, Peter barreled out of his office, "I'm Peter Venkman, may I help you?"

"I don't know what I have to say may sound a bit unusual." she explained.

Peter laughed, "That's all we get day in day out around this place, ms.?"

"Barrett, Dana Barrett."

Peter led the woman upstairs. Janine walked over and tapped on Genevieve's shoulder, which in turn made her jump and bump her head on the roof of the car.

"Sorry, but there's a woman upstairs with Peter. A customer figured she needs someone to save her from Peter's pervy advances" she explained.

"Yeah, probably. Thank you, Janine!" she smiled. She slid off the hood of the car and ushered for Ray to follow. She rubbed her head as she walked upstairs with Ray, the pain from hitting her head becoming more noticeable with each step. Egon was already examining the woman when they reached the second floor. There were wires attached to her temples, connected to a TV that showed a thermal reading of her head. Peter sat across from her, no doubt trying to impress her by being her knight in shining armor.

"Oh good, Ms. Barrett, these were my other colleagues I mentioned, Dr. Raymond Stanz and Dr. Genevieve Stratford." Peter said.

"Hello", Dana said, waving awkwardly.

Ray gave her a smile before leaving to grab a soda from their fridge. Genevieve returned her awkward wave, sitting on the couch, rubbing her head.

"Now Ms. Barrett, where were we?" Peter said, resuming the conversation.

"So, this voice said 'Zuul' and I slammed the refrigerator door, that was three days ago and I haven't been back to my apartment since."

"You don't normally see that kind of behavior out of household appliance. What do you think, Egon?" Peter asked.

Egon turned to Peter, blinding him with a flashlight, "She's telling the truth, or at least she thinks she is." he said, turning off the light when he noticed Peter waving his hand in front of his eyes.

"Well of course I'm telling the truth! Who would make up a story like that?" she exclaimed.

"Some who are looking for attention, others just wackos who wander off the street." Peter smirked.

Ray spoke up, "You know what it could be? Past life experience intruding on present time."

Egon walked over and grabbed a box of Cheez-its and joined Genevieve on the couch. "Could be erased memories stored in a collective conscious. I wouldn't rule out clairvoyance or telepathic contact either."

Dana laughed under her breath, "I'm sorry, I don't believe in any of that."

"That's alright, I don't either." Peter said, and the rest of the Ghostbusters looked at him skeptically. "But there are some things we do.. standard procedures in a case like this that often bring us results."

"I could go down to hall of records and check out the structural details in the building. Maybe the building itself has a history of psychic turbulence." Ray offered.

"I could look up the name 'Zuul' in unusual literature." Egon suggested.

"Spate's Catalog?" Genevieve asked.

Egon turned to her, smiling at her. She read his mind. He offered her some Cheez-It. "Tobin's Spirit Guide."

"Tell you what, I'll take back Ms. Barrett to her apartment and check her out", Peter said confidently. Genevieve scoffed and Peter corrected himself, "I'll check out Ms. Barrett's apartment, okay?"

Peter led Dana, who reluctantly followed him. The two left soon after, leaving Ray, Egon, and Genevieve alone. Egon looked over at Genevieve, who was rubbing her head still.

"Are you alright?" he asked concerningly.

She turned, taking her hand off her head when she saw that Egon noticed. "I'm fine, just a little headache."

"She's lying, she hit her head on the hood of the car." Ray called out from the kitchen.

"Traitor!" she called out to him. Genevieve turned back to Egon. "I'm fine really."

He looked at her, "I should probably give you a routine concussion inspection. Stay there." He left, walking into the back lab. Ray walked over to the couch, plopping next to Genevieve. They waited awkwardly for Egon to return. He came back in a minute or two, a flashlight and other medical tools in hand.

He kneeled in front of her, putting on a stethoscope. He placed the small circular disk on her mid-chest, blushing when he realized how awkward the placement was. He then moved on to her blood pressure, then to her temperature.

Ray smiled, looking at the two. "Looks like you're giving her a routine physical rather than checking for a concussion."

"Right." Egon said, putting down the thermometer, then picking up a small flashlight, waving it in front of her eyes. "Are you feeling any nausea?"

"Nope. I think I would know if I had a concussion, I've had several." she laughed, awkwardly standing up. She turned to face Egon, looking down at him. "Uh, thank you, for the check up, Dr. Spengler. I'm gonna go lay down a bit."

Ray and Egon watched as she walked back into the living quarters, shutting the door quietly. Ray turned to Egon, smiling widely. "What was that all about, Dr. Spengler? When I will be receiving one of those doting examinations. You know, I remember a distinct time where Peter exhibited signs of a concussion and he didn't get this kind of treatment."

"That's because he was drunk, Raymond." Egon said, cleaning up his materials.

Ray could sense Egon was embarrassed and there was no way he was going to talk to him about Genevieve. "Well, I'm going to try to finish up the car downstairs, you alright up here?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." Egon said, walking back into the lab.

He sighed deeply. Why is everyone catching onto his stupid, schoolboy crush? That's twice in one day that he was called out for showing too much public affection for Genevieve. It's funny to think how he and Genevieve started out, his past self would be shaking his head at Egon's romantic feelings for Genevieve. When they first met five years ago, he immediately felt nothing for her. Sure, he always saw that she was physically attractive, but he didn't fully fall in love with all of her until the next year. She was shy and reserved when she began assisting him, but she was always kind to him. While others would dismiss his weird comments and ignore him when he info-dumped, she always paid attention and showed interest in what he was explaining. That was the first spark for him. Then the extra time she would spend organizing his files was another spark. The two coffees she picked up every morning for the two to share before his morning lectures. Another spark. The scarf she knitted and gifted him when winter hit. Full fire.

Who wouldn't fall for a woman like Genevieve? She captivated almost every man she met. And yet, she rejected each one. It gave Egon this silent hope that there was some attraction she had for him as well. She wasn't slick when she stared at him, he always caught her out of the corner of his eye. Maybe the root of all the teasing from their friends came from the frustration that they both like each other and are not actively trying to do anything about it.

Egon shook his head, trying to erase the thoughts from his brain, instead, turning his attention to perfecting the equipment he built for their business. After all, they had their first client, they would need proper tools soon. He tinkered for a while. Then, once he finished, he left the lab, grabbing his copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide and sat at the dining table, eagerly scouring the book for any trace of the word that Dana Barrett had mentioned earlier, Zuul.

It was dark when Peter returned. In his hands he held two large bags of Chinese food and a 6-pack of soda. He placed them on the table loudly, making Egon put down his book. Peter looked over his shoulders, shouting, "Chow time, boys! Get it while it's hot."

He sat himself down, tearing apart one of the white bags, grabbing a take-out box and chopsticks. He ate loudly as he waited for the other two to join them. Ray comes upstairs shortly after, his gray sweatshirt covered in oil stains. He seemed pleased, so they assumed his work on the car was successful. Ray and Peter ate in silence, the occasional conversation springing up and then dying soon after.

About ten minutes later, Genevieve emerged from the bedroom. Her ponytail was now messy and barely held together, and she switched her overalls for gray sweats and a white tank top. She sat next to Egon, opening the other bag of food, handing him a box and chopsticks, silently telling him to eat. He smiled to himself as he picked up the box, quickly digging in. She ate very slowly, her head resting on her hand, and her eyes barely staying open.

Peter spoke with food in his mouth, "I'm gonna need to borrow some of that petty cash. We should take her out, we don't want to lose her." he said, referring to Dana.

"This magnificent feast", Ray said, motioning to the take-out, "Is the last of the petty cash."

Egon looked over at Genevieve, who was on the verge of falling asleep again. He took the chopsticks out her hand and she opened her eyes slightly and then leaned on his shoulder. Ray and Peter smirked at Egon, silently praising him as they continued eating.

From downstairs, they could hear the phone ring and Janine answer it. Ray's ears perked as he heard Janine's growing excitement in her voice. She yelled, "We got one!" and pushed a button that set off the firehouse's alarm. Genevieve's head snapped up and she looked to Ray.

"A call!" he said, leaping up, repeating the phrase as he slid down the firepole.

Peter followed, chopsticks in his mouth and carrying his takeout box. Egon helped Genevieve stand up, and watched her slide down the pole, following soon after. The four quickly got dressed into their work uniforms, beige coveralls that had name tags with their respected names on it. The coveralls were fitted with elbow and knee pads, patches with their company photo, and a tube that would allow them to use the bathroom in their suit without peeing their pants. That idea was a joke from Peter that Ray took too seriously.

Genevieve rushed to the car, but admired Ray's handiwork for a moment before piling into the back with Egon. Ray drove the car out of the firehouse to their first real ghost site, The Sedgewick Hotel.

[thestarkerisobvious]

That Feels Good

Tony’s chest was pressed completely against his back, but Peter was still able to turn around enough to look into the older man’s face.  He did that now, overcome with wonder.

“That feels good...” he whispered, breathless.

He was sure he had spoken too softly for Tony to hear.  He was wrong. Tony’s eyes focused on his, surprised. “It’s supposed to feel good baby… I want to make you feel good…”

Peter turned back to the bed and hid his face in the pillow, embarrassed.  

Tony didn’t seem to notice, but kept up his steady rhythm.  He showed no signs of slowing, much to Peter’s amazement.  He’d never had a lover that had lasted so long – then again, his experience had been limited.  He had hoped to cover that fact up, to not embarrass himself by appearing too naïve (too late.) But he couldn’t help himself. Tony was nothing like he expected.

Tony’s body was strong and forceful, his cock relentless.  His kisses, tender and gentle.  Peter’s experience consisted of a few quick encounters with friends and a lot of porn. He hadn’t known what to expect from Tony, but he probably expected a lot more dirty-talk.  Tony was notorious for being a wall of sound, always ready to make an inappropriate joke at an inappropriate time.  But from the moment they had gotten naked Tony had been all sweet-talk and promises.  And asking permission, something Peter certainly wasn’t expecting.  Asking permission, and asking questions.  Peter had actually turned his back in hopes to cut down on the conversation.  He had absolutely no experience with this kind of verbal exchange.  Tony’s teasing and lude suggestions had always been easy to ignore, when they were dressed.  But now that they were actually in the middle of the act…

In so many ways, it was a relief.  Peter didn’t want to be called a slut, especially as a reward for “taking it so well” (if he was taking it well, shouldn’t he be complimented?)  Tony’s gentle words were a very pleasant surprise, even if Peter had no idea how to answer all these questions.

At least, when Tony had whispered “Talk to me, baby,” he had managed to say something.  Even if he had misunderstood what Peter had said.  

For so very, very long, Peter had wanted to be used, to be wrecked by this man.  And now he had gotten his wish.  but when he looked behind him he had been surprised at the look of wonder on his lover’s face.  He could tell it felt good, that he felt good to Tony.  

He was embarrassed that Tony had thought he meant something else, but he couldn’t keep his face hidden forever.  So he turned back.  Looked back.  Looked up into Tony’s face and watched in wonder.

[drkoestersmithrpg]

That Feels Good

Tony’s chest was pressed completely against his back, but Peter was still able to turn around enough to look into the older man’s face.  He did that now, overcome with wonder.

“That feels good,” he whispered, breathless.

He was sure he had spoken too softly for Tony to hear.  He was wrong. Tony’s eyes focused on his, surprised. “It’s supposed to feel good baby… I want to make you feel good…”

Peter turned back to the bed and hid his face in the pillow, embarrassed.  

Tony didn’t seem to notice, but kept up his steady rhythm.  He showed no signs of slowing, much to Peter’s amazement.  He’d never had a lover that had lasted so long – then again, his experience had been limited.  He had hoped to cover that fact up, to not embarrass himself by appearing too naïve (too late.) But he couldn’t help himself. Tony was nothing like he expected.

Tony’s body was strong and forceful, his cock relentless.  His kisses, tender and gentle.  Peter’s experience consisted of a few quick encounters with friends and a lot of porn. He hadn’t known what to expect from Tony, but he probably expected a lot more dirty-talk.  Tony was notorious for being a wall of sound, always ready to make an inappropriate joke at an inappropriate time.  But from the moment they had gotten naked Tony had been all sweet-talk and promises.  And asking permission, something Peter certainly wasn’t expecting.  Asking permission, and asking questions.  Peter had actually turned his back in hopes to cut down on the conversation.  He had absolutely no experience with this kind of verbal exchange.  Tony’s teasing and lude suggestions had always been easy to ignore, when they were dressed.  But now that they were actually in the middle of the act…

In so many ways, it was a relief.  Peter didn’t want to be called a slut, especially as a reward for “taking it so well” (if he was taking it well, shouldn’t he be complimented?)  Tony’s gentle words were a very pleasant surprise, even if Peter had no idea how to answer all of these questions.

At least, when Tony had whispered “Talk to me, baby,” he had managed to say something.  Even if he had misunderstood what Peter meant.  

For so very, very long, Peter had wanted to be used, to be wrecked by this man.  And now he had gotten his wish.  but when he looked behind him he had been surprised at the look of wonder on his lover’s face.  He could tell it felt good, that he felt good to Tony.  

He was embarrassed that Tony had thought he meant something else, but he couldn’t keep his face hidden forever.  So he turned back, looked back.  Looked up into Tony’s face and watched in wonder.

[starkandson]

spider-man // peter parker icons

from Spider-Man: Far From Home Pre-Lude (2019)

BONUS:

REBLOG if you save // DON'T steal/claim as your own without credit

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 19 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic.  In this chapter:  Paul has a nightmare and finally starts to confess to Gene. (Yes, there’s finally some smut again.) (Author’s note 6/24/2020: Smut has been revised! Thighsex imminent.)

           In his dreams Paul was always himself. Sometimes he was eight years old, in the school playground, hearing his classmates singsong "Stanley the one-eared monster" to the tune of Rudolph, and sometimes the classmates would turn into a whole stadium full of people, thousands, cackling and pointing, while he stood onstage and couldn't say a word. Sometimes he was his own age, walking off a plane, or at a photoshoot, stripped down and bare-faced and afraid as soon as the cameras started.

           That night he was seventeen again. He knew because the T.V. was on in the living room, Neil Armstrong on the screen in all his astronaut garb, sticking the flag up on the Moon's rocky soil. Julia was there, for once, sitting beside him on the couch.

           "Do you think it's real?" she said, and he looked at her, disgusted.

           (of course it's real)

           "Do you think it's real?" she repeated, and he thought she must not have heard him. He put his hand to his face, touching the start of his sideburns—something new he was trying, something he'd need to shave before school started back up, but for now, it was cool. He'd seen them on rockstars, but rarely in person, and never on someone he knew, until that guy he'd met a month back. Gene. But Gene was too fat in the face to pull the look off. They would look better on him, once they grew out.

           (it's got to be real. why would they waste all that time and money on something that wasn't real? why would they be so stupid?)

           "You tell me," Julia said, and her face and build shifted, dark hair bleaching out to light brown, pockmarks and freckles sketching across her face, Carol's face, Carol's voice now, Carol's hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me, Stan?"

         (i don't—)

        Another shift. Carol's face melted down, skull pushing outward, hair going shaggy and wild. Her nose forced out and flattened all at once, muzzle emerging. A lion's face on a man's body, a man's voice coming through its throat.

           "Are you going to tell me?"

         (please)

          (please, take it off, i'm sorry—i'm so sorry—)

           "Is it real?"

          (please)

        (what're you saying, i don't understand)

           "Is love real, Stan?" Marbas' voice was oddly soft as he curled his hand around Paul's suddenly much more narrow shoulder. Tapped it, then Marbas' still-human fingers moved to trace the sides of his smooth, bare face. "Or—let's put it differently. What she felt for you, was that love?"

           (i)

            (i don't think you can love someone you don't know)

           But you've made your fortune pretending." Marbas' lips pulled back, revealing teeth as long as his thumbs. "And so has he."

          (he?)

           "The man in your bed." The demon pushed Paul's hair behind his left ear. "I've cursed greater men than you. Byron. Shelley. More. Watching you was hardly entertaining in comparison, until he came along."

         (don't hurt him)

          (please don't—)

           "Do you really love him, Stan?" Marbas didn't give him time to answer, tugging at a curl, longer now than it had been minutes before. Paul couldn't feel a centimeter of what was happening to him, could barely do more than watch and breathe as his body warped before him. "Why? Because he was kind to you?"

          (i don't know)

           "Because he had the qualities you lacked? Or because you didn't believe he'd want you?"

          (i don't know!)

           The demon wasn't letting the point go. Neil Armstrong still in the background, the sound of the T.V. tinny. His shoes off to the side on the dirty carpet. The plugged-in fan on the coffee table. Everything, everything the same in that little apartment but him.

           "You won't tell me. You won't tell him. What I wrought on you really makes no difference." Marbas touched the center of chest, full and heavy before the demon even moved his finger towards it, and Paul realized, just from what he could see of his body, that he was still seventeen after all. The weight he'd had back then was there, the stomach flab, the too-thick thighs. Every bit of him dumpy and unattractive, no definition, nothing worth wanting. "Even if you'd always had this form, you'd have kept your silence. You'd never have given yourself up."

          (i can't, i just can't—)

           "Then you want to remain as you are?" The demon's mouth twitched again; he seemed almost to smile, fingers toying with Paul's shirt.

          (of course not!)

          (you don't understand!)

           "Paul? Paul, wake up."

           He opened his eyes. Gene was there, leaning over him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a book and a newspaper on the other side of the bed. Gene had stayed with him.

           "What time is it?"

           "Noon. Are you okay?"

           Paul nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking down, he realized he was still in last night's dress. The nightie's straps beneath it, amazingly, had stayed in place, though the sleeves of the dress had slid a bit. He swallowed, the memories of the night prior trickling in like a drizzle before a thunderstorm, replacing the fragments of his dream, and tugged the sleeves back up to his shoulder.

           "Did I say anything strange?"

           "You were getting kind of twitchy."

           A glance at the kicked-askew bedsheets told Paul that was an understatement.

           "I'm sorry."

           "No, I'm sorry. I should have stopped you."

           "From kicking in my sleep?"

           "From leaving last night."

           Paul looked over at him.

           "What could you have done? Chased down my car?"

           "I could've grabbed you when you were going out the door." Gene grabbed the book—it was one of his old self-help numbers from high school—and set it on the nightstand, possibly the only attempt at putting something away that Paul had ever seen out of him. "Or I could've done what you wanted. It's my fault."

           "It's not your fault at all. You got me out of there." Paul shifted until he was on his side. "If it hadn't been for you, I…"

           "Mary-Anne was taking care of you."

           "She… she was, wasn't she? She must've thought I was so stupid." He shook his head. "I don't know how you knew where to look for me."

           "I didn't. It was just a guess."

           "I shouldn't have gone off. I guess I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted." Paul paused. "I'm okay. I promise."

           "Are you sure nothing—"

           "Nothing happened." Paul tried to smile, weakly. "I wouldn't still be in this shape if something had."

           "If anybody touched you, then—"

           "It's fine. I'm fine."

           "Paul, you're not fine." Gene swallowed. "Somebody spiked your drink."

           Paul didn't answer for a long moment.

           "Nobody spiked my drink."

           "What?"

           "I said nobody spiked my drink. I took the 'ludes myself."

           He didn't want to look Gene in the face. He didn't want to see the disappointment and disgust there, now that he knew that Paul had drugged himself when he was already in danger. That he hadn't been innocent. That had to have done it for Gene. Wrecked any chance of leftover fondness or want.

           "Why?"

           "Because I couldn't stand the thought of fucking some random guy sober." Paul exhaled. "I didn't realize I couldn't stand the thought of fucking him trashed, either."

           "Paul—"

           "It's okay, all right?"

           He was surprised when Gene gathered him up in his arms. His breaths hitched, all of him just tightening, tightening up at first. Gene almost let go then, but then Paul grabbed him, burying his face against Gene's neck.

           He didn't deserve that kind of comfort out of Gene after what he'd done. Worrying Gene. Risking his own safety. He knew it, but that didn't make him any less greedy for it. He remembered, in blurred-out fragments, Gene's hold on him in CBGB last night, Gene's arm around him in the limo. Gene wiping his face off with the towel. He remembered leaning into all that warmth, too 'luded out to even quite understand it, only recognize that it was there for him, despite everything.

           Hopeless. So hopeless. But he kept holding on anyway, grateful, pathetically grateful, holding on longer than he should have, breathing in the scent of Gene's skin. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. Closer, maybe, than he'd ever get again. Gene hadn't even gotten dressed yet, was still in his boxers, and his bare arms around him felt so good, so reassuring, it almost hurt. Paul shut his eyes and peeled himself away, not wanting to wait for Gene to let go first.

           "It's really… it's okay."

           And then he got up. He felt more clearheaded than he'd expected. Peter had told him 'ludes kept him from waking up with a hangover after a night of partying, but he'd never really believed him until now. Except for the acrid taste of vomit and morning breath still in his mouth, he felt… bizarrely enough, he almost felt refreshed, physically. He crossed over to the master bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling with mouthwash before returning to the bedroom. He walked over to the closet door, where the other blouse and dress that he'd bought still hung from coathangers. "I… I'm gonna get dressed. Which one do you want?"

           "Paul, they're your clothes."

           Paul chewed on his lip and took the dress off its hanger, lining it up level against him. The hem fell two or three inches above his knee. He turned around, dress in hand, and started to head back to the bathroom, but Gene spoke again before he got there.

           "Don't wear things just because you think I'll like them."

           "I'm not."

           "Paul." Gene got up from the bed. "I gave it a lot of thought last night. I haven't helped you out like I needed to."

           "Gene, all you've done is help me out."

           "I've hurt your self-respect. I told you what to do. I made you dependent on me."

           "I was depending on you way before this. You just didn't realize it."

           "Not that way." Gene walked up to him. Paul draped the dress over one arm like a waiter's napkin. "I made you feel like you had to—to wear things, to do things, to keep my attention. I never should've—"

           "That's not true."

           "Yeah, it is. Last night, before you left…" Gene's gaze lowered to the floor before lifting back to meet Paul's. "I didn't know why you were acting like that. I'd thought you wanted me."

           There it was. There it was, closer than Paul had ever dared to put it himself. There was his chance. He could shut it all down right now, seal off any hope of Gene ever getting close enough to hurt again, do what last night had, somehow, failed to manage. Drive Gene away with an assurance that what he'd done, he'd done out of practicality. Tell Gene he'd used him all the way around, that every flirt, every kiss, had just been a means to an end. Lie to him the way he couldn't lie to himself.

           He had to struggle to keep looking Gene in the eye. The nerves that the Quaaludes and drinks had destroyed were all back again; he was keenly, so keenly aware of what he stood to lose. Gene's expression was guilty, almost penitent, and that hurt, too, but—maybe there was something past that. Maybe there was still some desire left in him. Maybe, even, if it wasn't the same as what Paul felt, it would still be okay. Paul wanted to believe that. He took a breath, and said three words.

           "You weren't wrong."

           "What?"

           "I did want you."

           "C'mon, Paul. You know my ego could use a little knocking down."

           "I did want you. I do want you."

           "Paul—"

           It felt like he was walking through water, every movement artificially slowed down. Two steps to close in on Gene. The reach of his hand to touch Gene's face, the morning stubble he hadn't yet shaved, tugging his chin down to kiss him. Just once, quickly, softly. Gene didn't stiffen up, didn't draw back, but he didn't answer immediately, either. As he broke the kiss, looking at Gene, trying to gauge his expression, Paul realized, offhand, that he'd had to raise up on the balls of his feet just to reach him. He hadn't even noticed.

           "You're not gonna want me after. I know that."

           "I don't know that I'd say that."

           "I would." Paul's mouth crooked upward, only a little wobbly. The words seemed to spill out of him like the water from a burst dam. "That's why I acted like that. That's why I left, because I knew."

           "Paul, listen—" Gene started, but Paul cut him off.

           "It's okay. I… I haven't treated you right. You've been real good to me and I—" Paul shook his head. "Let's try, all right? If you still want to—I wanna try."

           "I—"

           "I don't think I could go all the way yet. But I wanna be with you."

           "Don't push yourself. Especially not after last night."

           "I'm not pushing myself."

           "Paul, I'm serious."

           "I'm serious, too."

           Gene didn't answer for awhile. Paul felt frozen in front of him, biting back a thousand more words, swallowing every impulse to spill his guts even further. He wouldn't hold eight years of want over Gene's head like a ransom that needed to be paid. He wouldn't beg Gene again. He wouldn't yell at him, or throw a fit. And he wouldn't—he wouldn't give himself up, any more than he had already. He couldn't.

           Gene's hand touched his cheek. He seemed to be thinking. Gene always seemed to be thinking. Paul took a few quick breaths, until Gene bent his head and met Paul's lips with his own. Warm lips he'd already half-given up on touching again. Paul kissed back hard, suddenly desperate, arms looping around the back of Gene's neck. Beyond eager, beyond grateful, wanting to erase the memory of last night on the bed. Touching him the way he'd wanted to before. Kissing him the way he'd wanted to before, the way he'd done when they were dancing. Gene's tongue was in his mouth, one hand tangling against in his hair while the other tugged him tight against him.

           Paul was getting wet, like before, trying to grind against Gene like he still had a dick, like any movement of his hips right now, standing up, was granting him half the friction it was giving Gene. Gene was tugging him backwards before long, back towards the bed. Paul let him. His whole body felt hot and just on the verge, already unraveled over so little. Gene eased him into sitting on the bed and he scooted backwards, swinging his legs across the bed.

           Gene didn't go for the zipper of his dress this time. He seemed almost cautious, only kissing him on the mouth and neck, not yet even groping his chest. Paul reached behind him, sliding the zipper down, down, sliding the dress off. More purposely exposed than Gene had seen him until now, nothing remaining but the thin, purple nightie and panties. He was trying not to squirm as he felt Gene's gaze on him, but he couldn't seem to help himself, fingers curling around the nightie's hem. When he'd put it on late yesterday afternoon, he'd realized how short it was, the hem only barely skirting the upper part of his thighs, and how the silky material strained against his breasts. It had sort of warmed him, then, made him feel a little hopeful, a little desirable. Now, he wasn't so sure.

           "Do you like it?"

           "Yeah. It looks good on you."

           "I got it for you."

           Gene hesitated.

           "That's what I mean, you don't need to wear things to—"

           "I'm not—"

           "What… what I mean is, you had my attention already."

           Paul felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He didn't know how to answer that. Gene didn't seem to be waiting on an answer, anyway, one hand sliding up his thigh, beneath the nightie, tracing the soft skin there and the spreading wetness on his panties. His other hand went for one breast, squeezing it, sending another surge of need through Paul's body. He'd tried groping his own breasts a few times, before Gene came, never getting anywhere with it. It had been about as pleasurable as rubbing a hand against his knee. But now that Gene was touching them, tweaking one already-hard nipple and then the other, Paul found himself groaning, back arching. On some level it was almost humiliating, to be crying out over so little. Gene's other hand had only barely started rubbing him through the damp fabric.

           Gene tugged Paul up on his lap before long, Paul's legs splayed on either side of him, the nightie bunched up above his hips. Gene's erection was rubbing up against him, too tantalizingly close to be avoidable now, and Paul held his breath, half-expecting Gene's slow strokes to stop entirely, but they didn't. Paul grunted a bit, tugging the elastic of Gene's boxers down just enough to free his dick.

           "Lemme suck you off," he urged, starting to scoot back, although the twitch of Gene's fingers, finally sliding beneath his panties, made it almost impossible to want to get off of him for that long. "You haven't gotten a damn thing out of this yet."

           "I don't know about that." Gene was smiling, running his fingers against his slick folds, Paul pushing his hips forward to meet them. "Just give me a hand here. I've got a great view."

           "C'mon, you… you can't just want a handjob." It had to be disappointing enough just keeping it to fooling around in the first place with him. Paul hadn't even been brave enough to take off the nightgown. Paul grasped Gene's dick anyway, almost unprompted, his own strokes firmer and more assured than he'd expected. He watched Gene take a deep breath, his cock already twitching a bit in his hand. "I've blown guys before, I'm not a virgin there—"

           "Maybe later." Gene grinned, pressed a kiss to his throat. "You know, I never actually got to see you relax the other night." His finger ran lightly across the edge of his clit, too lightly.

           "You felt it," Paul protested, distracted. It was already getting hard to concentrate. He didn't want to halfass it, especially when part of him could still barely believe it was happening at all. Especially when he knew, from rare, scattered conversations early on when they'd toured, that Gene tried to avoid masturbating much—which had always struck Paul as weird. Gene's selective orthodoxy and hang-ups were so baffling. He shifted, rolling his hips harder against Gene's fingers and hand.

           "Let me see it."

           Oh. Oh. Paul was crying out again, cursing as he tried to focus, keep a rhythm going despite his own arousal. The precome already dripping from the tip was gratifying, Gene's breaths getting ragged, but he didn't know if it was enough. Gene kept watching him, watching his face. Every high-pitched sound that came out of Paul's throat was hotly embarrassing, not in the least because Gene was quieter in comparison, while Paul's moaning was only ever covered up when his lips met Gene's. But Gene was getting less cautious now, groping his breasts beneath the nightie instead of just through it, the skin-on-skin sensation almost overwhelming. His other hand, caught between Paul's thighs, was certain, slipping along his folds, finger running small strokes against the hood and clit.

          Gene was already closer than he was. Paul could tell that by the feel of his dick in his hand, and the expressions crossing his face, making him redouble his efforts. Paul’s vision swam, his own concentration faltering far before Gene came, groaning lowly, spurting mostly in his hand and on his dick, a bit of come ending up on Paul’s bare thigh. Paul let go, bracing his damp hand on the bed, leaning forward. Gene’s own hand had gone almost still between his legs. The blissed-out look on Gene’s face almost made up for it.

          “Hey, Paul, you haven’t—” Gene started, fingers moving again, not quite as intently as before. Paul grabbed his wrist, tugging it back.

          “Wait. Let’s try something else.”

          Gene looked a little confused but moved his hand away, starting to rest it on his leg. Paul shook his head.

          “Not there. I need that.”

          “You need that?” Gene furrowing his brows post-coital would’ve been funny, if Paul wasn’t battling his own arousal. The heat was starting to rise in his cheeks as he took Gene by the wrist again, setting it on the sheets. He wasn’t quite able to look Gene in the eye again yet, so he ran his fingers against the warm, soft fabric of his boxers, rolling up the hem of one leg slightly, mouth pursed.

          “You’ll see.”

          Paul closed his eyes briefly, breaths heavy, and scooted in closer, shifting until he was straddling one of Gene’s thighs. He made only a token effort at wiping his right hand off on the sheet before clasping both hands around the back of Gene’s neck, as he started to rub himself against Gene’s leg.

          Gene’s lips parted in surprise. Unbelievably, he actually looked like he didn’t know what to do at first, hands taking awhile to find their way back to Paul, one resting on his shoulder while the other slipped back under the nightie to rove over his stomach and back up to his breasts. Pairing that with Paul’s own grinding made it all the more intense, stimulation almost overwhelming. His damp panties were barely a barrier, exactly the extra friction he needed as he rocked his hips in short, quick bursts. Every so often, his leg would brush up against Gene’s dick—still soft for now, but still its own sharp thrill. Warm. As long as he was this close, this wet, he wasn’t nearly so worried about how letting him, about how actually fucking, would end it. It was just something else spurring on his arousal, a promise of something to come.

          “You’re killing me, Paul.”

          “Yeah?” Paul’s mouth twitched into a small smile as Gene tugged him into a kiss.His legs were clamping tight around Gene’s thigh nearly of their own accord, amping up the pressure, concentrating it. Paul was panting and groaning again before long. His clit was throbbing, the wetness that had already soaked through his underwear going past it, making Gene’s bare skin and the edge of his boxers slightly slick.  Easy to push and rub up against, find the exact right rhythm to leave him breathless.

          But it wasn’t quite enough until Gene pulled him forward just a bit, just until Paul found himself panting against his neck. Paul sped up a little, hips rocking, moans and curses all he seemed able to manage as the pleasure built up, closer, closer. He realized, dimly, that he was starting to finally get used to this body, figure out what he liked now, how to get off. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, not that it mattered right now. Gene was still watching, his gaze, the unfettered, needy want there making Paul feel heady. Looking him right in the eye was better than before, better than it had been in the dark. He cried out again, sharply, as he finally came, clutching Gene hard as he rode out his orgasm. It was a few seconds before he let go, Gene’s grip on his shoulder not loosening up until Paul relaxed his legs again.

          “Gene,” he said. “That… that was good.”

          “Yeah? Good.” Gene grinned. “You look cute when you come.”

          Paul glanced down reflexively at the comment, shaking his head. The spunk on his hand and on the sheets was long since clotted up. He started to get up from Gene’s thigh, a little shakily, straightening his underwear and pushing down the nightie with his clean hand. He felt a little like apologizing—it couldn’t have been that good for Gene, who probably hadn’t had a chick stop at a handjob with him in ten years, and Paul knew he couldn’t have been that fun to watch get off, either, if only because of what it wasn’t—but Gene didn’t look unhappy with the way things had gone at all. He looked pleased, maybe almost sated, running his hand almost possessively down the wet spot Paul had left behind on his thigh and boxers, rubbing the fluid between his fingertips. Paul’s face felt hot as Gene brought his fingers to his lips.

          “You taste pretty good, too.”

           “Aw, c’mon, Gene--”

          “You do.”

          Paul shook his head, but his heart was beating a hard, hopeful cadence at the words. He didn't quite feel sated. There was a weird leftover warmth in him, a deep-down feeling that he could probably go again without much trouble, but he felt like he'd asked too much of Gene already. It'd probably be another ten minutes at least before Gene could get hard again.

           "Uh. Lemme get you a towel or something, then we can… I don't know, I can fix some toast…" Paul trailed, awkward as all hell, starting to scoot off the bed. He'd forgotten how to handle anyone in the after. Gene, especially. Gene looked at him as if he were about to laugh.

           "You'll really leave it at that?"

           "I'm not leaving it at anything." Paul tried to rearrange his face into as bland an expression as he could, too keenly aware of how tightly he was still pressing his thighs together. Gene laughed, tugging him back up by the arm, back nearly into place on his lap. He wasn't facing him head-on this time, at first, but he turned his head, a vague sort of hope making his pulse flit. "C'mon, Gene, I know you can't—"

           "You have a hard time enjoying anything, don't you?"

           Oh, God. Just like last time, Gene was picking the worst point possible to start asking questions. Paul hesitated.

           "I enjoy plenty."

           "You're still soaking." Gene had gone for the hem of the nightie, tugging it up and pressing a finger against his panties, making Paul twitch anew. "I bet you could go again. Maybe more than once."

           "I don't know— "

           "You wanna try?" Gene leaned in, kissing the top of his head. Just as easy and thoughtless as if they really were together. As if this wasn't going to evaporate the second Paul gathered up enough nerve to give in entirely.  Why shouldn't he be thoughtless about it? I want you was all Paul had managed to own up to.

           Paul shoved those thoughts aside as hard as he could, and turned around entirely, tracing his hand down Gene's chest. Gene, to his credit, barely winced at the cold, not nearly inadvertent smear of come from Paul's hand.

           "Depends. Would you go down on me for it?"

           The glint in Gene's eye gave him away long before he even licked his lips.

[badmcuposts]

Ok. Criticism is v limited on FFH but i feel the need to say something.

A grown woman telling a 16 year old boy to take off his clothes in front of her is wrong

A teenage boy taking lude pictures of his classmate for personal gain is wrong

A teenage girl trying to sneak a peak at her crush while he changes is wrong

And don’t forget that Peter is a canonical CSA suvivor (at least in the comics, it’s not yet been confirmed as true in the MCU), which means that all of this is extra wrong.

Peter Parker cannot legally consent to anything.

In the law’s eyes, Peter Parker doesn’t know any better and cannot be trusted with the ability to consent to absolutely anything until he turns 18.

Not showing anything that makes it directly clear that “kids, this is wrong” means younger viewers are going to confuse these actions as silly jokes and not understand the bigger picture. Teaching children about consent is important.

[aramathea2]

Pre-Lude To The Easter Sermon

Jesus went to his disciple Simon Peter one day to hear what he had to say about his impending crucifixion. Simon Peter vehemently declared the love he had for the Lord to him. Father, he would say, I love you to the depths of my soul. Nothing on earth could ever tear me away from you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Then Simon Peter went on to describe the things he would endure and go…

[turisiancom]

TURISIAN.com – Event spaktakuler SPORTEL- Sport Content Producer akan berakhir hari ini, Jumat 24 Februari 2024 di Bali. Event yang mengusung produk olahraga tersebut melibatkan 180 perusahaan yang mewakili 31 negara. Termasuk, 55 peserta dari pasar Asia Pasifik yang sudah berlangsung sejak, Kamis 23 Februari lalu. Acara ini disebut-sebut menjadi peluang bagi komunitas portal Eropa dan Amerika untuk menjalin hubungan kerja sama. Baik dengan para pemimpin bisnis olahraga dari Indonesia, Asia, maupun Oseania. Peter F. Gontha, Direktur Utama PT Indonusa Telemedia, yang ditunjuk sebagai mitra International SPORTEL Monaco mengatakan, Asia dinilai memiliki pasar olahraga yang berpotensi besar. BACA JUGA: Indonesia Berpotensi Besar Jadi Tuan Rumah Berbagai Event Sport Tourism Dunia Pertama, Asia, khususnya Indonesia, merupakan pangsa pasar potensial terbesar untuk berbagai tayangan olahraga kelas dunia. Hal itu dibuktikan besarnya jumlah penduduk Indonesia yang dibarengi dengan tingginya minat masyarakat untuk menyaksikan tayangan olahraga, terutama sepak bola. "SPORTEL yang berkedudukan di Monaco memilih Bali sebagai tuan rumah SPORTEL Asia. Kami berharap pergelaran event SPORTEL Bali ini dapat mendatangkan banyak pengusaha penyiaran. Termasuk juga,  penyelenggara olahraga dari Indonesia maupun luar negeri," ungkap Peter. BACA JUGA: Kamar Hotel di Toba Ludes Terjual Menjelang Event F1 Powerboat Broadcaster Dunia Sementara itu, Menteri Pariwisata dan Ekonomi Kreatif (Menparekraf) Sandiaga Uno mengapresiasi penyelenggaraan "Sportel Rendez-vous Bali" yang menjadi peluang bagi para pelaku industri olahraga. Juga, broadcaster dunia untuk bertemu dan menjajaki peluang kerja sama. "Sportel merupakan event bagi pelaku industri penyiaran olahraga di dunia yang berisi pameran para Sports Content Producer,” katanya. “Disitu juga ada panel diskusi, serta pertemuan antara para pemilik konten olahraga dunia dengan para operator televisi yang berada di Benua Asia," sambung Sandiaga. BACA JUGA: Cirebon Koi Festival, Datangkan Juri dari Luar Negeri, Begini Eventnya Sandiaga juga memberikan apresiasi kepada  Peter F Gontha yang dengan sangat cepat mendesain acara yang partisipasinya sangat luar biasa. “Ini menunjukkan Indonesia sekarang menjadi negara yang dilirik sebagai tuan rumah event utama. Khususnya, untuk penyelenggaraan acara-acara olahraga. Dan juga pameran teknologi terkini, agar kita bisa menikmati pertandingan olahraga," ujar Sandiaga. Kemenparekraf, menurutnya lagi, akan fokus dalam penyelenggaraan event-event, baik dalam skala nasional maupun internasional. "Kami pastikan akan mendukung dengan kemudahan perizinan yang akan didigitalkan. Kami akan menciptakan ekosistem yang jauh lebih baik untuk acara olahraga ini," kata Sandiaga. ***

[idasessions]

Famous Muses & Groupies in Rock Music Pt. 19

GROUPIE: Grace Slick (born Grace Barnett Wing)

It feels wrong labeling someone as influential and iconic in rock music as Grace Slick a groupie, but.…it’s kind of true, lol. I don’t think she would even really argue it what with how blunt she’s always been about her sex life. Grace was born on October 30th, 1939 in Chicago, IL to Ivan and Virginia Wing. Grace and her younger brother Chris grew up in Chicago and Los Angeles before the family settled in San Francisco when Grace was in middle school for Ivan’s investment banking career. She graduated high school in Palo Alto, attended Finch College in New York City her Freshman year of college, then transferred to the University of Miami, FL her Sophomore year before dropping out completely. From 1959-62, Grace was a professional model for the department chain I. Magnin. Around this time in 1961, Grace met and began seeing her future first husband, Jerry Slick, a sometime cinematographer and short film director. In 1965, Grace and Jerry formed their own rock band, the Great Society, inspired by the growing psychedelic scene in the bay area. The group included Grace as lead vocalist, Jerry on drums and Jerry’s brother Darby on guitar. Despite being the band’s frontwoman, Grace originally viewed her involvement in rock music as a lark.

A year later in 1966, fellow NorCal band Jefferson Airplane announced they were in need of a new female singer. Supposedly it was Airplane bassist Jack Casady who convinced Grace to crossover to their act. For the next two decades, Grace filled a fulltime gig as one of the leaders and songwriters of JA; the spinoff band Jefferson Starship that brokethrough in 1974, to eventually becoming just Starship in 1985. In 1971, Grace and then boyfriend/bandmate Paul Kantner recorded the album ‘Sunfighter,’ dedicated to their newborn daughter China. She also released four solo albums during the 1970s-‘80s. Her trademark tracks include ‘Somebody to Love,’ ‘White Rabbit’ and ‘Lather’ of Jefferson Airplane; ‘Silver Spoon,’ ‘China’ and the title track from ‘Sunfighter;’ and ‘Ride the Tiger,’ ‘Love Too Good’ and ‘Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now’ of Starship.

Back in the 1960s, Grace was one of the most rebellious celebrities in the entertainment biz. Whether it was stunts like dropping the first ever F-bomb on national TV during a 1969 musical performance on Dick Cavett’s show; or getting kicked out of the White House with anarchist Abbie Hoffman for attempting to spike President Nixon’s tea with LSD. If there was one more thing as famous as Grace’s trippy songs, cool fashion sense, radical political statements and experimental drug use, it’s her unapologetically brazen sexcapades. By the time Grace joined JA, her marriage to Jerry was already winding down, though their divorced wouldn’t be finalized until 1971. In her 1998 memoir Somebody to Love, Grace claims she’s slept with every male member of the Airplane except co-vocalist Marty Balin. Apparently the only reason Marty passed on the chance was because he thought the intimacy might ruin the on stage chemistry between them (and because he was always jealous of the female bandmates’ popularity). Marty’s also the only member she hasn’t stayed in touch with since the groups disbanded. Jack Casady would be the first fling in late ‘66, because she thought bass playing was sexy, lol. Then followed drummer Spencer Dryden, who would be her boyfriend from 1967-68. The song ‘Lather’ from the 1968 JA album ‘Crown of Creation’ was written by Grace for Spencer on his 30th birthday.

Her most serious relationship was with JA rhythm guitarist and songwriter Paul Kantner from 1968 to 1975. But in between Spencer and Paul would also be a very brief, but memorable encounter between Grace and Doors frontman Jim Morrison in September of ‘68. That autumn, Jefferson Airplane and the Doors were co-touring Europe and one night in Jim’s hotel room things got a little crazy. Grace doesn’t really remember all the details because they were wasted the whole time, but allegedly their tryst included Quaaludes, strawberries and some intense staring while naked in bed. She’s described him in interviews as ‘well-built,’ ‘larger than average,’ and ‘gorgeous, but so screwed up.’ In the morning, Grace gave Jim the typical ‘call me’ line, but she never heard from him after the tour (probably because he was living with girlfriend Pamela Courson back home). “I liked Jim a lot. Most women did.”

There also seems to be some overlap with her hook up with JA lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and courtship of Paul. By late ’69, Paul and Grace were living together, and on January 25th, 1971, their daughter China was born. Grace infamously trolled the hospital nurse aiding her birth when she jokingly said she wanted to name her infant ‘God with a lowercase ‘g’.’ The track ‘China’ on ‘Sunfighter’ is an obvious homage to the new baby. That same year, Grace suffered a concussion when she crashed her car on Golden Gate Bridge while racing with Jorma. This then became the basis of the song ‘Never Argue with a German If You’re Tired’ on the 1971 JA album ‘Bark.’ But now back to Paul and Grace. Unfortunately even with the addition of a family, their relationship would be very stormy. With Airplane being shook up like everyone else over the violence that occurred at the 1969 Altamont Music Festival, the band slowly started drifting apart. In 1970, Paul and Grace focused on composing their own LP together and then forming J. Starship with Marty, while Jorma and Jack went off to pen their own band Hot Tuna. Though Starship actually ended up being even more commercially successful than Airplane, Grace’s substance abuse would be at its worst throughout the ‘70s. The acid and ‘ludes were gone, but now the new band was into coke and Grace succumbed to alcoholism. Grace’s already erratic behavior would get even sloppier and include two arrests for what she calls ‘talking under the influence.’ Both involved her talking back to a police officer while drunk, and during one of the incidents there was also a complaint of her and Paul arguing too loud in their house.

Grace eventually entered rehab twice, first in 1979 and then again in 1990, before officially gaining sobriety. After she and Paul ended their relationship, Grace married JS’ lighting man Skip Johnson from 1976-1994. She now considers herself very lucky that addiction didn’t kill her like it did to Jim and the rest of the 27 club. But ever the contrarian, she also said in a 2017 Classic Rock magazine retrospective that the US made a mistake banning Quaaludes, lol. As for all her hookups? “The only thing I regret is not including Jimi Hendrix and Peter O’Toole.”

[cardamomoespeciado]

Biden's parents and children continue to support the "profitable theory in China"

10/24 (Sat)

JBpress

On the same day that the author published "The Wall of Stupidity that Commentes on the United States", the article "The Chinese Device Theory Behind the Biden Son Scandal" was delivered on JBpress. The content is not almost the same as the coverage in the United States, but it even covers things that can only be understood at a considerable cost. That's amazing.

There are a large number of Japanese who write articles about US politics, but most of them are anti-Trump, and there are also many so-called "horizontal papers", but strangely, there are many articles about Biden's parent-child scandal. I hardly saw it. This may be due to what the US media is ignoring.

However, most of the darkness was struck by a Japanese female Chinese watcher (Kaori Fukushima). I don't know her at all, but I'm sorry to the author, Fukushima, hoping that this global perspective will be further strengthened, but how correct this analysis is and the facts in the United States are superimposed. I want to write about what happens.

■ Reasons why Chinese Americans are believed to be the source of the hunter incident

Most of the information sources for her story are Chinese Americans (called overseas Chinese here), especially Youtuber's "Rodokusha". In the United States, information is transmitted in Chinese under the name Lude Media. Looking at this Youtuber information, you can see that "after making a hypothesis, we carefully check the facts and point out the importance of the problem." From there, he (Youtuber's "Rodokusha") has learned a lot about US politics.

The beginning of this story begins with Mr. Hunter Biden (the second son of Biden candidate) who brought a broken computer to a repair shop but did not come to pick it up. Here, let's look back on a timeline that is not included in her story.

■ "Rodokusha" and overseas Chinese network in the United States

Combining the leaked Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) information and the story from former New York City Mayor Giuliani (now President Trump's private attorney) who received a copy from the repairman, this computer Was brought to the repair shop in April 2019, so it's been a year and a half ago.

The repair company who was suspicious of Mr. Hunter who did not come to pick up even after the repair was completed, that is, did not pay the repair fee, could not be contacted even if he called. When the troubled repairman looked at the contents of the hard disk, he found an email showing advanced international transactions and suspicious pictures such as girl pornography.

Here, the repair company was careful about copying to the four hard drives. Or did you think it would be profitable? In any case, the repairman contacted the FBI in December 2019. At that time, the repairman said that he was given words that could be taken as advice or orders, saying that he might be in danger to himself in other words.

After that, the FBI didn't contact me and nothing ostensibly happened (it didn't appear in the media), so I felt dangerous and handed one of the four to Robert Costello (Giuliani's legal counsel). It was July 2020. And October 14th was covered on the front page by the New York Post (NYP), which has the oldest and most circulation in New York State. It's the same New York, so maybe it's Giuliani's leak.

However, according to Mr. Fukushima, Ritokusha sent it on September 24th, so it is about 20 days earlier than NYP. This is very important in this case, and I imagine that there was a lot of word-of-mouth spread in the last 20 days behind the fact that NYP, a local New York newspaper, posted the case in Delaware, albeit the son of the Vice President. it can.

In other words, one of the four was given to Routokusha, or the one given to someone else in the overseas Chinese was given to Routokusha. Almost certainly, it turns out that there was a person between the repairman and the overseas Chinese.

As far as the author knows, it is the overseas Chinese who work in computer management at many companies in the United States, and most of the PC repair companies are managed by overseas Chinese or are working by overseas Chinese. I've heard that many PCs are made in China or parts made in China, and there is a route to get them at a bargain price. The Delaware repair shop would have had a similar environment.

Another fact is that among the immigrants to the United States, overseas Chinese and Indians have a fairly solid mutual support system such as the Mutual Aid Society, and for example, people who came to the United States as illegal immigrants are also protected by this system and legal. Isn't it the point of being an immigrant? This is not a rumor, but something I knew as a fact.

Overseas Chinese make heavy use of WeChat, and Youtube did not limit articles, so even if Facebook and Twitter set forwarding restrictions that challenge journalism, the story would have spread.

■ Is the purpose of overseas Chinese Trump support or Biden check?

From July to August 2020, Secretary of State Pompeo of the Trump administration announced his policy toward China four times with Attorney General Barr, Secretary of Defense Esper, and FBI Director Urey. At this time, he clearly suggested that the other party was the Chinese Communist Party, not China. Originally, former UN Ambassador Haley raised funds as "the enemy is the Chinese Communist Party," but this is now common sense throughout the United States.

On the other hand, looking at the Democratic Party, both candidates Biden and Harris are advocating improved relations with China. In addition, ministerial candidate Fink Blackrock CEO is a promoter of investment in China, and the governor of New York, Kuomo, also calls China a friend who provided a ventilator free of charge with the new corona. There are many pro-Chinese groups, mainly super-liberal (= progressive). Mayor De Blasio has adopted a camera made in China that the New York Police Department can wear. He feels no risk of hacking by China and claims that the US threat is Russia, not China.

The fact is that the opinions of the Democratic Party's middle-aged scholars, such as Speaker of the House Peroshi, who do not allow human rights issues in Uighurs and Hong Kong, are accepted only from the perspective of human rights issues in super-liberals.

From this composition, Mr. Fukushima's view seems correct again.

The overseas Chinese in the United States may have different political parties to support, but whichever they support, it is thought that the United States is aiming not to be at the mercy of China. I don't know anything about the political conflict in China, but considering that Jiang Zemin was still in power when Mr. Hunter began to play an active role in the United States and China, it is almost impossible for Biden's parents and children to dig in here. That's true.

From another point of view, her view is correct because the Trump administration has decided to protect the interests of US companies through the US-China trade and the horizontal and vertical division of labor between the US and China. Given that the US-China trade benefits companies, the only enemy to the administration is the Chinese Communist Party's sense of hostility towards the United States. To help with this is the anti-Xi Jinping regime of overseas Chinese.

On the other hand, while 80% of the people are anti-china with the new Corona against the Biden camp, if you hit the wedge of the hunter case for the future, even if the United States becomes the Democratic Party administration, the overseas Chinese in the United States The position will be safe. In addition to Biden, many Democratic politicians receive huge donations from people who appear to be Chinese. The behind, it can be seen that there are overseas Chinese of parent Xi Jinping regime. In other words, he threatened the Biden administration and the Democratic Party's parliament not to let them flip their hands after the election.

The difficulty here is, he or Xi Jinping regime is expecting either. The author feels that it may be surprising that he is supporting the Republican Party, which can solve the problem of money, rather than the Democratic Party, which is particular about human rights issues.

■ What did the additional witnesses confess?

By the way, there is additional information in the story of Japanese Chinese watchers.

First of all, on October 17, Mr. Peter Schweizer, who was a fellow of Mr. Hunter's external business, submitted an email to the FBI. It seems that many Chinese are included here as email recipients.

After that, another fellow Tony Boblinski confessed his relationship with China China Energy. At that time, he revealed that Biden was a person called "Big Guy" who appeared in emails such as Mr. Hunter.

Moreover, Biden also testified that he had a 10% stake in the company he created with Mr. Hunter and Chairman of CEFC China Energy Leaf, and it was also found that he was answering a call from China in the telephone record. ing.

In addition, President Trump invited Mr. Boblinski to the 3rd Presidential Television Debate on October 22nd. This is the same composition as in the last (2016) debate, inviting Monica Lewinsky (who her husband, President Bill Clinton, cheated at the White House).

By the way, Patrick Ho, who was an officer of this CEFC China Energy, was arrested in the United States in November 2017 for violating the Overseas Corruption Trading Law. What's interesting is that the New York Times (NYT) was the one who took up the issue at that time, but the newspaper is now silent.

■ Two truths you should know as a Japanese

Anti-Xi Jinping strength of government awareness of the overseas Chinese is, there is intense immeasurably in Japan. I would like to conclude this paper with two events that suggest it. Anyway, the analysis of the US situation of Japanese Chinese watchers was sharp.

One was when Prime Minister Abe visited Columbia University when he visited the United States in September 2014. At this time, Prime Minister Abe was welcomed by a crowd of Asian students while he was going to the lecture hall from the car attached to the main gate of the school. The cheers flew turbulently, saying "Abe", but most of them were Chinese students. Both the author and the Japanese students I know have witnessed it. It was a tribute to Prime Minister Abe, who was anti-Chinese on the pro-US route.

The other is the story that Mr. Fukushima wrote the first report of Mr. Hunter's case on September 24th. The day before the NYP's front page, the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) stated that Attorney General Barr "finished without prosecuting anyone on the Russian Gate issue."

If you use your imagination, it can be said that the will of people with overseas Chinese information that "it will be different" to the judgment of the Ministry of Justice led to the publication of NYP.

The WSJ mentioned the hunter issue in the opinion section on October 19, and the morning newspapers of major US media on October 22 reported that the US Supreme Court's nomination and approval was the same as the Trump case. I write that it is supported by.

It's probably because the recent Democratic Party's attitude is too strange.

On the other hand, Candidate Biden blew a dog whistle in response to the NYP report on October 14th. He instructed the US Open's supporters to rush to vote before the deadline. This has led to the impression that "the number of early votes has suddenly increased" in Japan since yesterday.

In the United States, there are many patterns in which facts come out after the problem has settled down. This time as well, the announcement of the investigation may proceed after the presidential election is over. At the very least, the FBI has been very cautious this time, as it has received very severe criticism from the Democratic Party for preventing Clinton's victory in 2016.

Well, I'm looking forward to the future development.